


Roadtrips and Rifts

by samzillastomps



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Boundaries, Consent, Crushes, Cunnilingus, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Get a room you two, Grinding, Halamshenanigans more like because ugh, Halamshiral, Hella Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, More tags to come!, Oral Sex, Selfies, Short Chapters, Sick Character, So many kisses, Sweet, Sweet Gestures, Texting, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vaginal Fingering, Will they won't they?, argh we've moved on to subtle touches, but the chapters are shorter so you won't burn as long ;), cullen tends bar, dat cullen crush, friendships, hints - Freeform, i guess this is slowburn too..., i'm pretty sure we were already there but still, if only one of them were brave enough to just ask the other outright, little bit of tears, lots of longing, makeouts on the 'ramparts', more hurt/comfort too, night club looks, oh shit son we have kisses now!!, patient and devoted oral sex, playful story, such sweetness, taking care of each other, tentative gifts, these two are getting braver and braver as time goes on aren't they?, these two are killing me, these two sure do take their damn time, they will, we're about to have That Scene come up with our walk in the next chapter...., well they got a room, which is honestly how it should be imo haha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 97,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samzillastomps/pseuds/samzillastomps
Summary: Elodie Lavellan owns a four-person sedan, and refuses to buy a mini-van so that more of her companions can tag along on missions. What? She loves her little blue Surefoot!Shacked up in the abandoned Skyhold hotel in a mildly post-apocalyptic version of the modern world, Elodie and her companions travel all over the region to deal with threats of dire proportions. Along the way, Elodie has to deal with motel fights, pit stops for pie, disagreements over the radio, and wrong coffee orders.Oh, and the impending threat against modern Thedas, the one with the username Corypheus.





	1. Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> What started out as a few fun character ideas turned into a modern AU with my inquisitor! My headcanon longfic for her is... well... long. So this was a way to play with companion interactions in a modern-day setting and try to keep chapters short. Details might be a bit vague, but they have fun so it's alright ;)

"I do not understand why Dorian is always in the front," Cassandra sighed from the backseat as Bull adjusted himself under the seatbelt. He leaned forward slightly too far and clicked it past the point of elasticity, forcing him to unbuckle and try again lest he be strapped immobile against the passenger side of the Subaru Surefoot. She moved to elbow him out of her personal space, but Bull was too busy struggling with the seatbelt to notice.

"Simple. I called shotgun," the Tevinter model replied.

"You always seem to do that when I'm out of earshot," she answered.

"Enough," Elodie cut in, trying not to laugh as Bull caught the corner of his coat in the seatbelt as he tried to retract it enough to reset the lock on it. "I didn't realize you wanted to sit up front, Cassandra."

"It depends on how long we're in the car for," the Seeker replied, adjusting the Kevlar vest she wore beneath her leather jacket. “I like being able to adjust the air-conditioning and volume on the radio.”

"I'm partial to being up where I can sit near our young Inquisitor," Dorian cooed, but the sound cut into a grunt as Bull accidentally kicked out against his seat as he struggled.

"Tell you what," Elodie said as she merged onto the highway, barely glancing back in the rearview, "you can duel it out once we get to the Emerald Graves."

"How long until we're there?" Bull asked, resignation and defeat lacing his tone. Dorian gave a shout of laughter and turned down the radio a few notches.

"At least an hour."

"Oh fantastic," the Qunari groaned, flexing through the sex-dungeon reminiscent bindings across his chest. It was ‘function over fashion’, he claimed, but Elodie failed to see what function beyond entrapment the belts served. Bull dragged a hand over his mouth, trailing it down his jaw. "If we stop and we're not within walking distance of a bar, I will literally tear the tires off the first car I see, Boss."

"Understood," Elodie said, shooting the gap between a huge eighteen wheeler and a minivan.

"So long as we get there in one piece," Cassandra gasped, one hand flicking upwards as if she were going to grab the oh-shit handle.

"Relax," Dorian replied. "At least with Elodie driving we know it'll be a quick death."

Instead of answering, Elodie turned up the music once more and flooded the car with crackly top 40 hits.


	2. Cullen Is On Time, Which Surprises No-one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to keep the chapter titles I've used in Scrivener for your viewing pleasure haha. Which explains why this one is... what it is ^^

As horrible as it was, Elodie loved calling meetings in the early pre-dawn hours. It was horrible in that she figured it interrupted her advisors’ nights, but wonderful because of the quiet and the strange intimacy it afforded. Everyone smelled like shampooed hair and rich coffee, and Elodie absolutely loved it.

She never really slept anyway, what with the stress dreams, but she always felt guilty for her advisors. She assumed at least Josephine got her forty winks; the Antivan social-media expert seemed like the type of girl to insist upon early bedtimes if she had her way. Getting back from a long trip in the Emerald Graves district, the last thing on Elodie’s mind was sleep. All she could think of was planning her next move.

The majority of the trip had consisted of Dorian and Cassandra butting heads, one time literally, as Elodie snuck them through abandoned sections of old arboretums and rotting skyscrapers. It was surreal, to see so much green within city limits, and it still had her mind buzzing. The two hour car ride back to their complex hadn't calmed it at all. She sent out a text to the War Council group chat and made her way through the multilevel garage. She decided to wait by the elevator that would take her up to the main floor lobby. If nobody answered, she’d go grab herself some early breakfast.

She could see Varric by the door to the garage, speaking with one of her volunteers. Even with the chill in the unheated concrete space, even as his breath smoked in front of him with each exhale, the dwarf still had his collarbone bare. Elodie mused that with chest hair like that, scarves must be unnecessary. Varric didn’t notice her, and he looked concerned, but it was not enough to make her worry too. Elodie passed by with only a small wave in his direction, but he was too preoccupied to catch it.

She glanced around as her phone vibrated in her pocket, letting her know at least one of her advisors was replying in the group chat. Nobody else would text her. She was almost certain that Cassandra had gone to shower off the grime of the trip, and Dorian had slept the entire car ride home, so she assumed he was at least awake in the library. Bull was almost definitely back in his room taking a bath, or asleep in the rec room downstairs. Elodie pulled her phone out of her skinny jeans and unlocked it with a touch of her thumb.

_ C_Rutherford 03:17am _

**_On my way._ **

She smirked, having guessed correctly. Looking at the time stamps, though, Elodie noted that Cullen had answered really quickly.

Like... immediately.

Was he awake most nights this late? She had her read receipts turned on, so instead of replying she merely clicked her phone back off and slid it into her pocket again. Now that she wouldn't be hanging out in the converted office space alone, Elodie pushed the button to call the elevator and head up to what Leliana fondly called "the war room".

It was a simple conference room, with several bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling arranged in a few concentric circles, and a foldable whiteboard built directly into one of the walls. Beneath the lights, in the center of the room, was a very pretty glass and metal table with maps and blueprints laid out over its surface. There used to be chairs, but Leliana had taken them out; all of the council found themselves standing over the map anyway.

Elodie opened the door to an empty room and she clicked on half of the lights with a tap of her finger. They blinked on immediately, no hesitation, and she made her way to the table. A few magnetic pieces had been arranged over some transit system maps, showing where Elodie had centered her efforts for the Inquisition so far. The implant in her palm creaked as she flexed both hands, eager to plan where to hit next. She had a few leads from their website, and was certain Leliana had heard of more. Soon, the Inquisition would have enough renown in the city underground to be invited to bigger and better things, putting them further on the map. She could do some real good here. It was happening under her fingertips with each system she hacked into, each drug ring she busted through, each mercenary she stopped.

"Inquisitor," Cullen said quietly as he pushed the glass door open, his voice husky with fatigue. Elodie turned, her thoughts stilling.

"Commander," she replied.

It always felt too formal, using their titles instead of their names. The Inquisition was a response to a corrupt church, a ruined defense force, and worker’s rebellions cropping up all over Thedas. She was honored to be a figurehead for a force of peace, naturally, but that title always made her feel rough to the touch.

"How was the trip to the Graves?" he asked, rousing her from her stupor.

"Good," she sighed, watching him move to the other side of the table with one hand automatically on his holster. His shirt wasn't as done up as it normally was. She could see the Kevlar he wore, an older model than Cassandra's, glimmering like white gold underneath of his red button-up. He'd thrown on the burgundy fur-lined North Face jacket he always wore, its collar fluffy and sitting on his shoulders like a lion's mane. "I’ll have to go back sometime soon."

"You didn't find all the rifts?"

"I did," she said quickly, "but there were a few areas I had to avoid because of armed guards. I need to change up my kevlar, talk to Dagna a bit."

"There's this new schematic I found the other day," Cullen said, a soldier's enthusiasm returning briefly to his tone. He sifted through the accordion file he’d brought with him to the war room. "I haven't had a chance to get it to you yet, but it looks to have higher tensile strength than previous versions of body armor we've used with the Templars." He passed her a few papers, some complex hand-drawn blueprints and materials lists, along with a step by step that looked like it’d been printed directly from a website. "Tell me if it's any good."

"If it is, I'll have some made for you too," Elodie promised as she took the papers from him.

"It would be a waste on me," Cullen said ruefully. "If you want to do something for me, you can scout resources on your next trip, requisition some high quality metal so we can melt it down for more bullets."

"Why don't you come out with me?" Elodie asked, a conversation she and the Commander had had a few times since she had awoken from the Conclave lab fire.

"You find someone to keep up with the training regimens for our troops, and I'll go with you in a millisecond," he said dryly, the husky tone sending shivers down Elodie's back.

She was fond of him. He  _ must _  know that she was, but at times like this she couldn't be certain.

"I'll work on that," Elodie murmured, just as both of their phones buzzed twice in a row.

_ Nightingale 03:26am _

**_Coming._ **

_ JosieMo 03:26am _

**_I am so sorry, I was on the phone. I'll be down momentarily!_ **

"Well at least you're punctual," Elodie joked as she and Cullen both clicked off their phones simultaneously.

"One of my few good qualities," the former Templar replied. "Along with my ability to break down and reassemble a rifle in record time, and my cure-all recipe for the common cold. I'm an intimidating man."

"Most assuredly," Elodie said, smiling at him as she leaned over the maps and blueprints to grab for the folder near his hip to look through the debriefing of his last few missions. He cleared his throat, and Elodie bit her lip to keep from teasing him further. He nudged the folder closer to her with a few fingertips, not even picking it up off the table. Elodie straightened with it in her hands, flipping through and offering him a reprieve from her gaze.

"My apologies, Inquisitor," Josephine said as she burst in, a golden trench wrapped tightly around her body. Beneath it, Elodie could see a plush cream cotton pajama blouse. Behind the Antivan was Leliana, looking like the diplomat's literal shadow in her black thermals and a dark charcoal infinity scarf.

"I don't know why you insist on debriefing right as you return," Leliana said sharply.

"It's because I miss you," Elodie answered, smiling through the fatigue. She watched as Leliana narrowed her eyes, most likely considering a sharp retort, but then the former bartender softened.

"I'm glad you made it back safely," Leliana said, her voice quiet as she and Josephine made their way to stand on either side of Cullen. He was still looking down at the war table, seemingly lost in thought. "My agents told me that these particular gangs in the Graves were heavily modded, posing a bigger threat. We knew you could handle it, but might have still been a bit tense in the meantime."

Elodie thought back to a few of the genetically altered, almost demonic mercs that had fought her off as she struggled to use her chip implant to shut down virus-ridden AI at the rift site. She could only nod. She’d been tense too, to be honest.

"How are you fully dressed, Cullen?" Josephine asked suddenly, her voice still warming up. Her curls were pulled back in the messiest braid, twisted atop her crown. She still managed to look elegant in her dishevelment. She clucked like only an older sister could. "You don’t sleep in your armor, do you?"

"No," Cullen answered, drawing himself up a bit taller as Elodie pretended to ignore them. "I hadn't gone to bed yet."

"Anxiously awaiting the return of the Inquisitor?" Leliana pried, and Elodie looked up with a rogueish grin, waiting for Cullen to disagree. Instead, she saw him redden slightly.

"She's back safe," Cullen answered, "so I will sleep easier. As we all will," he said, almost like it was a threat, his voice firm. Elodie blinked, surprised.

"Inquisitor," Josephine prompted, reaching out with reports from her last networking luncheon. "Here's everything we needed to know from my father's contacts in Jader. We've gotten big enough to be noticed."

"Oh?" Elodie asked, welcoming the distraction. Leliana was watching Cullen with narrowed eyes and lips pursed in a knowing smirk, while the long-suffering Commander was attempting to look like he wasn't uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "What does this mean for the Inquisition?"

"Well," Josephine glanced over at Leliana, who decided to show mercy and tear her gaze away from Cullen. The two women shared a knowing nod, then looked back at Elodie.

"How much do you know about Orlesian politics?"


	3. Shooting Range Dropout

"Pasty ass-crackles!" Sera shouted, throwing down her Beretta right as Elodie walked up. As if they had been in the middle of a conversation, which they had not been, the elf turned to Elodie and sneered. "Can't get used to the recoil, makes me feel like my hands are separate from my blighted body!"

"Fingers out of practice?" Elodie asked, watching as the new recruits to their right carefully hanging up paper targets and pretending not to listen to Sera's tantrum. Elodie had a feeling this wasn't the first cursing fit the elf had had this morning.

"I'm better with those new fiberglass arrows you bought me," Sera growled. "They're pretty, glimmery, and deadly."

"Glad you like them," Elodie said, loading up her compound bow with some of those very arrows. “Make sure you thank Dagna. They’re her design.”

"So remind me why I gotta practice with this stupid thing?" Sera demanded, gesturing to the weapon on the floor. Elodie narrowed her eyes at the tantrum.

"In case you have to switch mid-combat like you did last month. You lucked out. I don't want you relying on luck next time your crossbow gets knocked out of your hands."

Sera glanced over, looking Elodie up and down. Elodie tried not to flinch, but fully expected a worse reaction than what she got.

"So you taking me out on this next one then, eh?"

"Is that your way of asking me to?"

"Yes."

It was a warning, she could tell by Sera's tone.

"Then yes," Elodie replied, smirking over at the girl. Behind her, two Templars in their signature red Dragonweave bulletproof vests finished emptying their clips into the targets about twenty yards away. Elodie’s ears were smarting from the crack of the bullets, and she considered asking Sera if her elven points ever stung from the noise in the shooting range. Sera usually didn't take kindly to being reminded about her appearance, though, so Elodie hung up her target without a word. She was just happy she'd grabbed up her earplugs before coming out to practice. The last time Blackwall had commented on her bangs being slightly uneven, the city elf had snipped a divot in his beard as he slept.

"You know," Sera said, looking at the paper where a silhouette that was vaguely person-shaped held several circles moving steadily inward toward the chest, "I feel like it'd be more fun to personalize these things."

"Really now?"

"Yeah. Can't you just imagine how much more productive we'd be if we had a snarling Corpyphenus to shoot at? Or a puckering Vivienne?" She giggled at the image. "I'll draw up some designs."

"Oh I'm sure Cullen is going to love that," Elodie snickered.

"Right. I'll be back later, Ellie."

"Don't forget the gun," Elodie said as she put in her purple earplugs. Sera made an obscene gesture, but picked up the pistol and cleared the weapon with lightning-quick fingers before heading out.


	4. Everyone Has Insomnia I Guess

Elodie couldn't sleep. She'd been trying for a few hours, her body willing but her mind too jazzed from a day of driving around with Blackwall and Sera. Dorian, long-suffering hero that he was, had offered to drive most of the way while Blackwall and Sera played the Alphabet game in the backseat. The object of the game had been to scan signs, license plates, billboards, and whatever else for words that started with the letter that was next. It was easy-going up until they hit P, and the game had devolved from there into dick jokes and curse words.

Which had been nice, considering that once they got to the Graves again, it was all sneaking and fighting. They'd come home bruised and bloody, but had still come back victorious. They had blueprints to a good potential outpost thanks to their push.

Now, hours later, Elodie figured she might as well try to play some Sudoku to lull herself into a bored stupor. Clicking on her phone as she rolled over on her bed, she noticed she had several unseen snaps.

Not just several.... dozens.

The first thirteen were from Sera, which didn't surprise Elodie. Glancing through the videos, she learned that after a particularly grueling day, Sera and Blackwall had movie nights. Not to actually watch the movie, but to riff over it in jokes and quips until one of them gave up and laughed.

Sera was especially good at doing voices.

After about ten of the snaps played, making Elodie giggle into her fist, she noticed the rest were pictures. Blackwall had fallen asleep in his armchair. The next was a picture of Sera's hand in his bathroom holding a can of shaving cream.

Elodie mouthed, "No, she wouldn't."

Yes, she would. 

The next picture was of Blackwall's palm filled with shaving cream, followed by a video.

"Tch... heh... watch this," Sera breathed. She reached out from behind the phone, dangling a thread so that it just touched Blackwall's nostril. With a snort, Blackwall inhaled the tip of the string and immediately moved to swat at his face with his cream-filled hand.

The last second of the video was Sera shouting, "Yoooooo-" into the phone so loud that Elodie almost dropped it.

That was it from Sera. But Elodie had two snaps from Blackwall just underneath.

Sera had apparently taught him how to use the app, but he captioned his snaps like they were paintings. It was endearing, but sometimes didn't explain what had happened very well.

The first picture from Blackwall was of Sera sitting cross legged close to the TV, obviously from earlier in the night.

The caption read: _girl has never seen Manos: Hands of Fate_

The next picture was of Sera again, her bangs spiked straight up and absolutely covered with shaving cream. Her features were barely visible.

The caption read: _girl learns lesson the hard way_

Sera, to her credit, didn't seem that upset in the picture. Her teeth were showing through the layers of shaving cream smeared all over her cheeks. Elodie laughed, finally beginning to relax.

Two more snaps were from Vivienne, showcasing a very pretty perfume bottle from two different angles and asking Elodie specifically if she had ever used something like that before. Elodie typed back that no, she had not, but could not for the life of her figure out why Vivienne cared.

The last few snaps were not from Josephine, or Varric, or even Solas. The sender shocked her.

They were from Cullen, which was rare. Actually, come to think of it, she couldn't remember the last time he had snapped her. He usually just texted in the group chat if he had something to say, or emailed her, or gave her a direct call. Intrigued, she wondered if he was finally coming around to the concept of sending selfies or videos to show her more of his daily goings-on. It looked like his snaps were sent at regular intervals throughout the day, every hour or so. Opening them with an eager tap of her thumb, Elodie bit her lip in anticipation.

It was a picture of the green hallway from Cullen's room to the front lobby. The glass provided use as a makeshift greenhouse while linking the two buildings together in a walkway. It wasn't labeled anything, but it had the time swiped across it: _09:03_. The next picture was of a basil plant, simply labeled:  _ocimum basilicum_. Another was of a flowering butterfly plant, labeled:  _buddleia davidii._   The next was of a pretty purple flower, one Elodie wasn't familiar with, and apparently one Cullen wasn't either. The caption read: _I will look this up later_.

And so it continued, all of his snaps pictures of plants with their scientific names as captions, all of them taken at least an hour, sometimes two, apart.

Finally, the last and most recent Snap was of a chess board. Dorian was in the frame, looking concentrated. Cullen's caption was: _this is the face of a man destined to lose_.

Elodie laughed, wondering if Cullen had sent that to everyone, or just to her. She hit reply, and turned on her beside lamp. She took a quick selfie before her smile waned and sent back:  _and what of the face of a man destined to win?_

Before she could see if he opened it, Elodie closed out of Snapchat and turned off the bedside light. She felt even more awake now, which was the opposite of what she wanted. She opened Sudoku to try to clear her mind.

One new snap.

Fingers trembling, a smile already on her lips, Elodie opened the reply from Cullen.

It was a quick picture of Cullen's hand moving the chess piece, and the caption read:  _careful Inquisitor..._

Elodie bit her lip, wondering if she had offended, but then another snap from him popped up.

This one was a selfie. Damn he looked good. The lighting in his room was soft, buttery, a glow really. His hair was mussed, his expression confident. The caption, barely readable before the 4 seconds were up, read:  _I haven't won yet._

Elodie stared at the screen even after it went blank, unsure of how to respond. He'd been smiling. Daring. And very, very cute.

She blinked, a bit confused at why she felt so light and fluttery. It was just a selfie.

Hurriedly she sent back one more snap, a picture of her bedside table showing the time on her analog alarm clock.

_you should be in bed Commander_

Immediate reply, a picture of Dorian crossing his arms looking upset.

_Now that I won, I'll kick him out and head there shortly._

She paused, then typed out a response instead of taking a picture.

_sleep well, Cullen._

A quick answer, also typed.

_you too, Inquisitor._

Elodie frowned, a bit disappointed. She thought they were teasing, but he'd sent her back her codename instead of her first name. Was that his way of teasing her back? Was it his way of keeping his distance?

Put out, even though she wouldn't admit it, she rolled over again on her bed and sighed. She wished she could follow her own advice, but it seemed like sleep was going to evade her for a while longer. Elodie gave up; she opened up Sudoku for the third time and tried to think quiet thoughts, decidedly avoiding any further contemplation of Cullen for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After glancing through this chapter a few times to try to spot potential spelling errors, the word 'snap' no longer has any meaning for me ^^;


	5. Tea With The Girls

A few weeks passed, a calm that everyone should have been suspicious of. During that time, Elodie had decided to take Solas, Varric, and Bull out with her to explore the Dales. Their focus was a series of apartment complexes now filled with refugees from bombings further south, one that Solas and she had been meaning to visit for some time now. So many Dalish, targeted because of who they were and how they lived. It had been difficult to see the war-torn countryside, even more difficult to think they didn't have time to do any good there.

Elodie had made the decision for the group-- they were going to stay until supplies were replenished, RVs were repaired, and missing children were found. End of story. What had originally been a trip planned for two days then turned into two weeks.

Halfway through, Varric had gotten called back on business and Cole had insisted on taking a bus to the Dales to replace him. That had been a day filled with bickering, all three of the remaining friends worried for both Cole and Varric as they traveled.

But all had been well again when the kid showed up at the station, a note clutched in his hand with Elodie's cell number written in hasty ballpoint pen. Solas had looked so relieved to see Cole safe and sound that it had almost broken Elodie's heart. She hadn't wanted them to go back to work that night, had wanted to give Cole time to rest after his trip. They'd been helping requisition some supplies to rebuild a public playground. Cole, however, had been all too happy to get straight to it.

With his help, the group had finished repairs and relief efforts in record time. His energy had boosted morale, and his quiet chats with Solas in the motel at night as Bull snored softly in the corner had been like a lullaby that helped Elodie drift off to sleep. When they returned to Skyhold from the exhaustive journey, she half-expected the quiet to continue.

She regretted the dip in her guard as soon as she set foot in the hotel lobby and found Josephine holding her cellphone in shaky hands.

"Josie?" Elodie demanded, feet speeding up as she barely kept herself from breaking into a run. "What's wrong, what happened?"

"It's..." Josephine took a steadying breath. "It's bad."

Only hours before Elodie got back, they’d received word that the veteran Grey Wardens at the now-abandoned Western Approach Air Base were in trouble. Through a series of dark tweets implying self-harm for an unclear purpose, everyone who followed the Wardens could see that something was terribly wrong.

But then the feed went dark, tweets started disappearing, and the trail dead-ended before it began. Josephine had been on her computer most of the night, chasing high-profile internet celebrities that might have more information. Leliana had been on her own computer, digging in the deep portions of the web, still to little avail. Cullen had found Blackwall and had briefed the troops to be on the lookout for emails from the Wardens, to alert superiors if they heard from any of their loved ones on the matter. So when Elodie got in, there was nothing for her to do but wait.

It was frustrating as hell, to feel that helpless.

For the rest of the day, Elodie flipped through recon they had on veteran Wardens, and tried to familiarize herself with the last Blight. She'd been out of range of the infection a decade prior, but still felt it would be necessary to learn more about. There was only so much she could read, so many accounts she could absorb, before it became too much. As the sun set, she gave up on immersing herself in Warden history. She needed a distraction.

The tension from the looming, unknown threat seemed to keep everyone from sleeping when bedtime rolled around, and a few people seemed to hate helplessness as much as Elodie. They all had similar ideas on how to combat it, too.

Elodie noticed that the kitchens had drawn several of the Inquisiton members to its warm hearth. About a dozen or so of her troops were there quietly making tea for one another in an effort to soothe themselves into at least taking a nap while they waited to hear back about the Wardens. Elodie nodded at each of them in turn, the concrete walls and artificial light casting everyone in a pallid glow.

They nodded back, and she noted with pleasure that Cullen had put them into Inquisition uniforms of sorts; their jackets held a flaming sword overlayed with an eye, their symbol. Most of the recruits had a type of bulletproof vest underneath of emblazoned windbreakers, a few of the higher ups even sporting radios that they turned down out of courtesy when Elodie walked by.

She felt a weird sort of pride, even though she was still struggling with the idea that this belonged to her or was in any way her doing. She adjusted her leather jacket, wishing she hadn't changed out of her own armor if she was to be sitting around her troops.

"Inquisitor!" a sweet voice with an Antivan lilt chirped from somewhere to Elodie's left. She turned, standing a bit on tiptoe to look into a darkened corner of the kitchens, past the cold ovens and row of microwaves.

Sitting in a little nook near the pantry door was Josephine, and next to her was Leliana. Elodie waved, prepared to say hello then get herself a cup of chamomile before heading back to her quarters, but then she saw Leliana move a seat with her foot so that it opened up. It was a blatant invite.

Surprised, but flattered, Elodie made her way over as the rest of the kitchen bustled softly behind her. Cups clacked against the long wooden tables in the middle of the room, spoons tinkled against the ceramic of the mugs they stirred honey into, and gentle puffs of air blew on tea boiled too hot. It all created a soothing atmosphere to walk through.

"How do you take your tea?" Leliana asked. Her hand was hesitating over the lemon wedges at the table, as if she already knew how Elodie took it but didn't want to appear rude.

The two advisors had a kettle of hot water between them on the table, and had only just filled their two mugs. Elodie could tell because the bags inside of them had barely dissipated their herbal green into the liquid they were surrounded by. The two women had a third mug at the ready between them, and Elodie could smell jasmine and chamomile.

"With some lemon," Elodie confirmed, giving a slight tilt of her head. Leliana smiled and passed the tiny saucer of lemon slices over to where Elodie could better reach it. She didn’t say hello because the women hadn’t, and Elodie found herself wondering if they were just that comfortable around her or if something else was on their minds.

"Sleepytime alright?" Josephine asked, picking up two packets to give Elodie a chance to choose the other teabag.

"That'll be fine," she answered, sitting down and relaxing back into the padded chair. These were nicer than the ones in the rest of the kitchen and chow hall area. Elodie cleared her throat to keep herself from chuckling, and asked, "Were you expecting me?"

"I..." Josephine clenched her jaw shut, then exhaled loudly as she unwrapped Elodie's teabag.

"Josie-" Leliana cautioned.

"Were we that obvious?" Josephine asked plaintively.

Leliana scoffed.

"The spare cup kind of gave it away," Elodie conceded.

"Well," Leliana poured hot water into the mug, barely missing Josephine's fingertips. The Antivan narrowed her eyes across the table at her friend, then turned with a neutral expression to Elodie. Leliana set the kettle down. "If you can believe it, we were actually expecting the Commander about thirty minutes ago, but he can't make it."

"Oh?"

"He canceled on us, said he had to look over the battle plan for the raid on this base of operations in the Emprise, one that you'll need to infiltrate within the next month or so." Josephine said this with a calm air, dunking her teabag to better dissipate the flavor.

"If it's within a month or so," Elodie said carefully, wrapping her fingerless gloves around the hot ceramic, "then why does he have to do it now?"

"Cullen's a work-a-holic," Leliana chuckled, taking her teabag out with a spoon and pressing it to the side. "He's been good about taking breaks for the most part, but since Haven he's been a bit obsessive about getting things done as soon as possible."

"I see."

Elodie squeezed a lemon wedge into her mug as the trio fell into contemplative silence.

"But we _were_ hoping that you would come by," Josephine murmured, her accent lending a softness to her words that Elodie loved.

"And why is that?" she replied with an interested smirk, motioning for Leliana to pass her the spoon. She hated strong tea.

"Well," Josephine fiddled with her teabag string, almost tearing off the tiny tag in the process. "Not to be rude, but Leliana and I were wondering the other day, after we told you that Celene had invited us to try to save her syndicate," she forced a large smile, "if you had ever learned how to dance!"

"Oh." Elodie sipped her tea gingerly once the bag was out, testing the heat. It was perfect. She took a long drink, letting the heat travel through her past her layers of leather and cotton into her core. After a beat, she added, "Are you worried because I'm Dalish?"

"No! That’s… ah…  I…"

"Yes, actually," Leliana corrected Josephine, and it was the brunette's turn to groan into her tea. Elodie looked over at Leliana, her face set in an expressionless mask. Leliana took the spoon back from Elodie and handed it to Josephine. "Here you are. Don't want your tea to get too bitter."

"Thank you, Leliana," Josephine bit out. While Josephine removed her teabag, Leliana turned to Elodie.

"You're a prime example of how my knowledge of the Dalish is limited, possibly even outdated," Leliana said, blunt and to the point.

“What do you mean?”

"You’re not what we expected. You shocked Cassandra when you said you were Adrastian." She paused, raising an eyebrow. "You surprised even me, to be frank."

"I believe in the Maker, but I hardly practice. I've never even set foot in a Chantry," Elodie said.

"I don't think that's uncommon among the faithful, honestly," Leliana said, waving her hand a bit as she moved it to grab a small pitcher of milk to pour in her tea. "But regardless. That’s the main example I thought of, your religion. So now, we don't want to assume other things about you and have them be wrong too.”

“Like?”

Leliana took a deep breath.

“For example, we don’t want to assume that you might not know how to dance just because you're Dalish, and... well, you know."

Elodie narrowed her eyes, growing suspicious.

"But on the flip side," Leliana continued, "we also don't want to assume you've learned to dance before and then put you in a situation where you're embarrassed for not knowing what to do."

"So what you're saying is that I will be required to dance at some point in the near future, and you’re worried I don’t know how?"

"Yes," Josephine said softly, her mug raised to her lips. “At the Winter Palace, you’ll need to be able to blend in on and off the dance floor as best you can.”

“Better hide my ears then,” Elodie said coldly. Josephine looked contrite, but the redhead at her side was unphased by the remark.

"This is not the type of dancing that the Dalish are necessarily known for," Leliana added. “It is a club, but it’s got extremely wealthy clientele. Risque dancing might be tasteless to them.”

"Ah."

Elodie set down her tea then leaned back in her chair so that she could more easily take in both women at once. Leliana was leaning forward with a sharp stare that dared Elodie to lie, and Josephine had the decency to look moderately ashamed but curious all the same. Elodie gave a tiny laugh, no trace of humor in the noise.

"You mean you want to make sure your Dalish leader doesn't go into the club and do a striptease in the middle of it. Am I right?"

Neither corrected her, but Josephine’s eyebrow twitched.

"Let me clarify a few things," Elodie said, suppressing the urge to be offended.

“Please do,” Leliana invited, her tone softer now.

They didn't mean any harm, and they didn't know. Elodie mentally repeated it like a mantra.

Unlike most people, the two women here had the wherewithall to admit their ignorance and ask for Elodie to educate them. Elodie furrowed her brow, thinking that maybe Leliana knew better but was going to let her speak anyway. She cleared her throat.

"The Dalish are roamers, nomads, and that much you know. There are rumors of us being hippie sex-workers, or part of some sort of pagan cult, or whatever. Hell, I’ve even heard people warn naughty children that we’ll steal them away in the night if they don’t shape up.”

Elodie made a little hand gesture, clawing at the air in front of her, and then scoffed.

“And that's why certain people are really uncomfortable with Dalish visiting their camps. I’m sure city elves get their own share of discrimination, and I know about the slums these settlements say they’ve given elves… so I know it’s not good on either side.”

Elodie bit her lip, trying to reorganize her thoughts. She didn’t want to get distracted.

“But growing up Dalish has brought some unique experiences. I mean, a group of people living together in RVs and trailers and pickup trucks don't really carry the most sophistocated impression, do they?"

"There was never a suggestion of that at this table," Leliana replied.

"Humor me," Elodie said, holding up her hand. Leliana sat back slightly at the gesture, and Elodie realized it was her implant hand. She lowered it, gritting her teeth. "Sorry."

"No, no. It's quite alright. Please continue," Josephine urged, setting her cup down.

Leliana relaxed, but her expression was unreadable.

"The stereotype is that we use our bodies for money, and in a lot of cases it's true," Elodie bit out. "It's a means to an end, and it's something a lot of us are good at. Men and women alike. You’ll find a lot of Dalish are escorts or strippers or phone-sex-operators.”

“Those… exist?” Josephine muttered. Leliana made a little noise of confirmation, and the Antivan took an unsteady gulp of tea.

Elodie glanced away from them and twirled her cup in a semi-circle, thinking.

“I guess you could say we're a bit unconventional, a bit hippie in a lot of ways. But we're aware of the time and place for such things. We’re aware of the social ramifications of our actions. The implication of us being too savage to know when to undress or not is something that doesn't sit right with me," Elodie finished.

Her pulse pounding, her skin crawling, Elodie waited. She had said her piece. Now the ball was in their court. The women at the table let her words hang for a moment in the air between them, and Elodie experienced a clarifying moment. This was a pivotal point in their relationship. How the two proceeded from here would solidify how Elodie felt towards them, whether they knew it or not, and she prayed they would say something, anything, to move them past this.

Josephine broke the silence first.

"I apologize for making you uncomfortable, Inquisitor," she said, reaching across the table and actually setting a palm atop of Elodie's left hand.

Elodie's gaze shot to hers immediately, but she remained still. Josephine didn't seem to realize or care that the hand she was holding was the hand that could rewire corrupted AI with a clench of her fist. She didn’t seem to care that it could channel an EMP that even Solas didn't fully understand. To Josephine it was just Elodie's hand, and that meant it was something to be held.

"I'm sorry as well," Leliana said, her tone low. "I never meant to imply you or your people were... savage. It's not true." She paused and looked over at Josephine, who was now gripping Elodie's hand even tighter as she glared at Leliana. The redhead frowned. "I came off the wrong way."

“I accept your apology,” Elodie replied. “Both of your apologies. It's alright. I’m glad we can talk openly about these sorts of things.”

“I am too,” Leliana said, and she sounded like she meant it.

"For what it’s worth, I have taken a few dance lessons, back when we stayed around Starkhaven," Elodie said, gripping Josephine's hand back before pulling it away and wrapping it back around her mug. The two women stared up at her, confused.

"But-"

"I also worked as a stripper before, so your assumptions weren’t entirely wrong," Elodie continued, taking in how Leliana seemed to stifle a smile and Josephine tried not to look surprised. "I know you want to make sure I don't embarrass myself or the Inquisition when we go do... whatever it is you're having me do, and I appreciate that," she stated, smiling over her mug. “Just don’t imply that it’s because I’m Dalish, and we'll be fine.”

Leliana looked almost impressed, her smirk showing no sign of unease. Josephine, however, looked confused.

"Are you angry with us?" Josephine murmured.

"To be fair, it wasn't exactly the most appropriate way of asking me if I know how to dance," Elodie chuckled. Josephine looked mortified. “But no, not angry at all.”

If anything, Elodie felt relief. The precipice their friendship had been on seemed further now, less likely to drop them and dash them apart. 

"I told you Leliana," Josephine protested, her mouth twisted in a pout, "we never should've-"

"Josie relax," the redhead said, gesturing to Elodie. "The Inquisitor isn't upset, so you have no reason to be."

“Exactly,” Elodie agreed.

“I’m still sorry,” Josephine mumbled.

“Would more tea cheer you up?” Elodie teased, and Josephine looked like she wanted to smile but was refusing to out of a sense of propriety. Like she was trying to look apologetic in addition to having said her apology.

Leliana took a long drink as she watched them play back and forth, and when the two fell silent she asked a question Elodie had never expected.

"Would you like to go out sometime?" Leliana suggested.

Elodie paused, staring mouth agape. She gave a little laugh.

"Um..."

"With us both," Josephine said firmly. "She means that we will both take you out on the town."

"Yes," Leliana said with a nod. "That was to be the crux of this conversation actually... before it got a bit..."

"Rude?" Elodie supplied with a smirk. Leliana bit her lip, nodding.

"Mmm," she agreed.

"Cool. So it would be like a girl's night?" Elodie asked, sipping her tea.

"In a way. Not all of the women in your inner circle would want to accompany us, though." Leliana and Josephine exchanged a small glance, then the spymaster continued, "Cassandra is not very fond of the club atmosphere."

"Vivienne would gladly accompany us, depending on the venue, but I was hoping to take you to a more easily accessible club first," Josephine said hurriedly. "One where we would not run into any families we were looking to impress."

"Still think I'll embarrass you?" Elodie asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Oh no," Josephine blushed. "I meant me. I don't dance."

"Ah," Elodie said, trying to swallow back a giggle.

Leliana didn't hide hers. She looked over fondly at Josephine and patted her hand across the table.

"She's a good enough dancer," Leliana said. "But I agree with her. Small club. Vivienne wouldn't be invited because of the entourage she accumulates wherever she goes. The curse of being popular in high society."

"That leaves Sera," Josephine said, her voice portraying a hesitance that her fingers matched, her hands slowly lacing together as if in supplication. She raised her bright eyes to Elodie's, and her desperate expression made the Inquisitor finally break and laugh.

"I can imagine the havoc Sera would wreak on a ladies' night out," Elodie answered. "While that appeals to me in a lot of ways, I can see how it would make you uncomfortable, especially after the bucket incident. Better to take her on the next one. Besides," she picked up her tea again, "I hardly ever get to see the two of you outside the war room. It would be nice to go without talking about work for a while."

"It would," Josephine beamed.

"I agree," Leliana confessed, sounding like she wouldn't have admitted it had Elodie not said so first.

They sat there, happy, until Elodie snorted into her drink. As she coughed and laughed, Josephine scrambled to get napkins to her and Leliana grabbed her cup from her hands.

"Are you alright?" Leliana asked, patting her hard on the back between the shoulder blades. "Did you swallow a lemon seed?"

"No, I’m fine," Elodie sputtered, coughing hard into her gloved hand while Josephine mopped up her spilled tea. She looked up at the two women and blurted, "I was just thinking of how much more awkward this conversation would have been if Cullen hadn't canceled on you two."

Leliana snorted into her fist, and Josephine blurted a giggle that sounded like it even took her by surprise. The two women smiled up at the Inquisitor, eager to defend their coworker even as they admitted how true it was.

"We would have waited, had he been here," Leliana admitted.

"The Commander means well," Josephine tried to amend. "He just-"

"Gets flustered," Leliana finished, shaking her head fondly as she twirled her teacup by the handle and brought it up to her lips. “Especially around women with curls like yours,” she murmured over the drink.

Elodie grinned at them, contented to sit there a while longer. She wondered if the chamomile was finally taking effect or if she was just in good company. She tried not to bring a hand up to her hair to preen in pleasure, and instead leaned back in her chair. Even though she still felt helpless in the grand scheme of things, at least she knew she could count on those closest to her to make her smile every once in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **To be clear : Elodie's background revealed in this is not a setup or intro to something that will be revisited. It's meant to show her navigating a new and difficult kind of conversation with two women she doesn't know very well, and standing up for herself. It might be referenced in the future, but so far this is all there is to it.**
> 
> So a lot of this modern-Elodie backstory came from a convo I had with a friend about modern au's in general. The phrase, "D'you think Solas would be upset if modern-Lavellan was a stripper?" came about, and it kind of inspired this blurb. But that convo is better delved into another day
> 
> Adding this was also an extra layer to the Dalish of this little au. I think discrimination when it comes from a place of 'righteousness' can be all the more deeper and hard to get past. All in all, I'm glad the gals could have this chat so I wanted to include it.


	6. Hunchbooks

"Ever get tired of lugging around a backpack full of dusty old cookbooks?" Sera asked, sharpening her blade with a whetstone on the floor of the motel room while Solas and Varric both sat on the respective twin beds, reading.

"Who are you talking to, exactly?" Varric asked. Solas didn't even look up.

"Both of you's," Sera said, shrugging. "You're gonna develop humps from all those hardcovers. Quasimodo-looking motherfuckers, that's your destiny."

"Language," Solas said, not sounding very concerned. He glanced up with a furrowed brow at the elf on the floor.

Elodie was at her desk, organizing the snippets of information she'd collected in the Emprise district. There were a few sidetracking sort of errands to run tomorrow in the morning, once they rested. She could barely focus on organizing everything into her codex binder, though, not with them bickering like they tended to do. Still, it was cheaper to get one room with two singles, a trundle, and a couch than it would be to get four separate ones. She was willing to risk it to save some coin, even though the last time she brought Solas and Sera on the same journey he ended up leaving with his sleeping bag to go sleep in a local park within walking distance.

"All of you hush," Elodie mumbled, squinting at a few photos she'd taken today. She'd printed them to try to scrutinize them up close, but that was before the fighting started. Now, they were singed at the corners and harder to see than before. They'd run up against some of the Red Templar gang members and had a bit of a tussle. Sera was sporting a few bruises and Elodie herself had a swollen mouse under her eye from the encounter.

"What all do you read, anyway?" Sera demanded, setting down her whetstone with a dull thud against the fraying purple and blue checkered carpet.

"Want to answer her, or should I?" Varric mumbled, looking over the rim of his reading glasses at Solas. The elf made a go-ahead gesture with one hand, immersed in a certain passage. Elodie turned in her seat, resigned to give up for the night.

"I can promise you whatever you're reading, you can download onto an e-reader instead," Sera snorted. “Weighs, like, as much as an orange. A small orange, at that. Way better to lug around.”

"While citrus is real tempting,” Varric said, “I'm usually editing my manuscripts, or trying to read through letters. That’s not something I like to do with a screen."

"That there's just stubborn."

"Says the girl who refuses to touch a smartphone because, and I quote," Solas snapped, "it will 'do some weird identity shite' and 'put you on the grid'."

"It would! Which is why I cracked this one Ellie _made_ me get. You don't need me to own a touch screen tracking device for me to be able to message you," Sera sneered.

"Yes, my point exactly." Solas smirked. "I don't need to have an e-reader when my books already accomplish what I need them to do."

"That wasn't the point in the first place," Sera protested.

"Checkmate."

"You and your piddly chess," Sera muttered, pulling out her flip phone. "You know, I'm not Bull."

"Oh believe me," Solas muttered, "I am well aware that you and I will not be having any mental chess games, Sera."

Elodie noticed with a grin that half of the rhinestones Sera had bedazzled onto her phone the other night had already come off in her pocket. Judging by the way Sera absentmindedly fiddled with and picked at things when they were out and about, maybe only a fourth of that was accidental.

Their phones all collectively blinked, buzzed, or beeped.

"Maferath's balls, Buttercup," Varric grunted, "how do you text so fast?"

Elodie opened her phone with a tap of her thumb and was greeted by five new messages

_ SeraBeraFoFera 12:41am _

**_next cathedral we hit, im leavin the lot of ya_ **

_ SeraBeraFoFera 12:41am _

**_get it?_ **

_ SeraBeraFoFera 12:41am _

**_hunchbacks_ **

_ SeraBeraFoFera 12:41am _

**_cuz of books._ **

_ SeraBeraFoFera 12:41am _

**_hunchbooks._ **

"Wait, wait, wait. Did you rename yourself in my phone?" Elodie asked, aghast. "How did you even get in? Do you know my passcode?"

"You all left your bags out in the open for a bit while we were checking in," Sera laughed. "No telling what happened to them."

"What about mine?" Varric demanded. "You changed all of my contacts' names to superhero names. How the hell am I supposed to know who's calling me if only Batman comes up in the call log?"

"You just took a bunch of selfies on mine," Solas said, frowning deeply. "You know, for someone with such an intense distrust in technology, you sure know how to use it to your personal advantage."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sera said, her mirth completely unconcealed as she stood up to reholster her blades. "That could be literally anyone's nostrils."

She launched up from carpet as Varric slammed his book shut with a frustrated sigh, and the little elf blurted something about going for a dip in the jacuzzi. She left in a flash, laughing the whole way. Solas strode calmly over to the door and locked the deadbolt behind her. When he made eye contact with Elodie, he had the audacity to smirk.

“What?” The elf shrugged innocently, and Elodie shook her head at him.

"She didn't even bring her bathing suit," Elodie chuckled.

"As if that would stop her," Solas said as he heaved a world-weary sigh.

Elodie turned back to her binder, smiling to herself, but she couldn’t focus. She hadn’t brought her bathing suit either, but a swim sounded divine. The pool outside was heated, melting the snow nearby. After a minute she looked up. Varric was staring at the same page, looking tense as well, like the same thought was running through his head. Elodie shut her binder with a snap, startling the dwarf into looking up. He chuckled when he saw her taking off her necklaces and belts.

“You sure about this, Toffee?”

“Don’t talk, you’ll make me change my mind,” she warned. Varric held up his hands, then began to pull off his watch and rings.

"What are you doing?" Solas demanded, but it sounded like he already knew. He looked up at Elodie, tilting his head like he wanted her to refute it.

"Going for a dip," Elodie answered, shrugging as she pulled her curls back into a ponytail.

"The pool is closed, it's past midnight," he protested. "Honestly, Sera-"

"Sera's got the right idea. We need a break," Elodie said, shrugging out of her jacket. "You two coming?"

"My back  _ has _ been hurting me," Varric said, like he was trying to sound as if the idea had only just occurred to him even as he folded his sweatshirt and laid it on the bed. Solas glanced back at Elodie, his expression a forced neutral. Elodie bit her bottom lip, swaying at the door as Varric grabbed his room key and some of their spare towels. Solas gave a groan of mild displeasure.

"Fine. I'll come out. But I'm just putting my feet in."

"Don't worry," Elodie promised, tapping the sullen elf on the shoulder with her fingertips. "I'll save you from any stray splashes."


	7. Boots And Boys

"Okay, so whose toes do I have to suck in order to choose the mix we listen to in the car?" the Iron Bull complained from the backseat. "Because I'll do it. I don't care."

"Shush," Dorian hissed.

Elodie snuggled further into the door, trying to grab at the feathers of sleep before they totally left her.

"Also, can we stop for breakfast? I'm starving."

"We'll stop once I get tired," Dorian replied, reaching out a hand to gently pull Elodie's jacket further up onto her shoulder. He didn't mean to, but that was what woke her from her drooly slumber against the car window. She swiped her hand across her cheek, groaning as she stretched. Her foot was asleep and her neck hurt, but she'd rested. The Tevinter turned the radio down a bit. "I'm sorry, love, did I wake you?"

Elodie shook her head, sitting all the way up and running her hands through her curls.

“What time is it?”

“Early,” Bull mumbled. “Or late. Depending on if you’ve been awake or not.”

“It’s two thirty in the morning,” Dorian replied.

"I bet you're hungry, right, Boss?" Bull asked, leaning over the seat behind her. Elodie reached over and patted his hair, gelled up into two spike-like protrusions that almost poked her eye out as she struggled to wake up.

"I could eat, I guess," she said, yawning.

Elodie glanced into the backseat where Sera was curled up like an egg, her body completely covered by Bull's blue leather jacket with only her head visible. She still had on her seatbelt, at least. That was something Elodie insisted on, much to the woman's protests. She reached over to pat Dorian on his shoulder as she stretched to wake up.

"You doing okay?" she asked.

"Never better," Dorian said. "I'm focused from the energy drinks, and we've only had to stop for gas once. We're making great time."

"Awesome. Thank you for taking over for me."

"I could do this all night," Dorian answered as Elodie pulled up their route on her phone. 

"Luckily we won't have to," she said. "We'll be at the Black Emporium in a few hours. We've got to take a toll road underwater in a little bit, but after that it’s no more highways."

"I hate those underwater roads," Bull mumbled. "At least get me a McGriddle before you force me into a death tunnel."

"You're being dramatic," Dorian hushed, turning up the music.

"And you're being cruel," Bull growled. "This is the fourth consecutive time we've listened to this Ke$ha album."

"You were asleep for the first two," Dorian sniffed. "Those don't even count."

"I woke up to the same song! Four times! It completely counts, ‘Vint!"

"The only radio stations through here are fucking Andrastian gospels, I am not going to anger myself just because you have no taste in music!"

"Tell you what," Elodie said, clicking her phone off. "Bull gets to choose the music after we stop next. And yeah, McDonalds sounds good. We should get Sera some hashbrowns if she doesn’t wake up, don't let me forget."

"Fine," Dorian sighed. "But first we're going to listen to my favorite song a few more times."

"You're lucky I'm so patient, Dorian," Bull said quietly through gritted teeth.

"Once we're at the Emporium, we get to pick up what we need for new armor. Just think of that, and keep your chin up," Elodie said, rifling through her briefcase to double check that she had the handwritten notes on schematics that Dagna said she should be on the look out for.

There was a new type of replaceable scale Kevlar she wanted to try, one that Cullen had suggested a month or so ago, but she had only half the materials necessary. When Leliana had suggested the Emporium, Cullen had grabbed the file from the redhead and asked Elodie permission to oversee her itinerary for the trip. She’d agreed. It obviously made the Commander uncomfortable, her going to check it out.

Even though this place had a less than stellar reputation, it was the only one Leliana said would be safe to visit as far as the Free Marches open-air markets went. It was essentially a gigantic flea market that spanned several neighborhoods, and Varric said the streetfood at every corner was to die for. Elodie had also heard rumors that there was a special pocket of the market strictly reserved for luxury beauty items, which she would be lying if she said she wasn't itching to try. Lately her hair was feeling a bit flat from the cold spring rains.

"Dorian, you tell me if you have to turn or stop," Elodie cautioned, pulling out her makeup bag from her purse.

"Are you going to put on eyeliner in a moving car?" the Iron Bull asked.

"Yeah," Elodie said, flipping down the sunvisor and opening the mirror inside of it as she brought out her black crayon.

"Brutal," the Qunari chuckled, leaning forward and tapping an index finger on his eyepatch. "One slip and you're left looking like me."

"Not a comforting thought, Bull," Elodie said as she pulled her eye down to line her waterline with black. Still, she smiled despite herself, then let her face fall back into neutrality so that she could continue without smudging the line.

"Have you ever worn makeup?" Dorian asked the Qunari.

"Does war paint count?"

"Of course."

"Then yes. Plenty. Especially when it was rugby season."

Dorian chuckled to himself.

"That's funny to you?" Bull asked.

"No, no." Dorian snickered. "I'm laughing at the fact that your voice takes on the same tone when you talk about McDonald's as it does when you talk about rugby."

"What can I say? I'm a fan of food and fights."

He leaned over, grabbing Dorian's seat so hard that the leather creaked beneath his large fingers.

"Speaking of which," The Iron Bull whispered. "If you pass this next exit without stopping? I. Will. Eat you."

"Promises, promises," Dorian taunted, turning up the music loud enough to make Bull groan and throw himself back into his seat.

"Nghhh," Sera complained, burrowing further into Bull's leathers. "Shut up until it's food time."

Elodie opened her phone to distract herself from the overgrown children in her car, and saw that she'd missed a call from Cullen.  Her heart leapt into her throat, her mind immediately perking up. She turned the music down, her phone already to her ear. It rang only once before the Commander picked up.

"Who is it?" Dorian asked, and Elodie shushed him with a look.

"Inquisitor," the Commander answered, and she smiled despite herself. Despite herself, she pictured him behind his desk in the closet they'd converted to his workroom. Was he standing with his hand on his hip like he tended to do? Hand near his holster? She bit her lip as she tried to imagine him.

"Hi, Cullen." Elodie ruffled her bangs and ignored the mischievous look Dorian shot her way. She capped her eyeliner and replaced it in her bag. "What's up?"

"Just checking in with you. How are things?"

"Um, they're good. We're about an hour from the coast, then we get to take a toll road for the last hour before we actually get to the Emporium."

Dorian turned up the song for the chorus, something about comparing men to footwear. It sounded like someone had taken a regular pop song and rolled it in edible glitter, then thrown it on a seedy diner floor to writhe around a bit. Elodie really liked it-- the first time she'd heard it, anyway.

"Five times, 'Vint," Bull growled. "Five. Times."

"Sounds like you're having fun," Cullen chuckled.

"Oh yes," Elodie played along, turning down the breathy pop song as she shot a glare to the man on her left. "Not awkward for a claustrophobic at all."

"I didn't know you were claustrophobic," Dorian said, loud enough that she knew he wanted Cullen to hear. She winced, then shushed him with a sharp finger to her lips and a thumb jabbed back towards Bull to indicate that it wasn't her who they had to worry about. Dorian scoffed.

"Have I caught you at a bad time?" Cullen asked, sounding a bit worried.

"No! No," Elodie hurriedly said. "I'm just in the car."

"Not driving, I presume," he prodded, his voice taking on a warning tone.

"No, Commander," she teased. "Safety first, of course. My attention is all yours."

"Ahem," Dorian fake-coughed as Cullen gave a small, happy breath on the other line.

"Bet Commander's  _ at attention _ , too," Sera cooed from under Bull's jacket. Dorian reached back to high five her, but the elf just snuggled further into Bull's jacket, still at least pretending to be half asleep.

"Likewise," Cullen said in Elodie’s ear, and then he cleared his throat. "For the moment, anyway." It sounded like he was shuffling papers. "Now, if I could distract you briefly with work related matters-"

"My, my, my Inquisitor," Dorian smirked. "Whatever is that dreamy smile on your face for?"

Elodie ignored him and hoped it hadn't been loud enough for the phone to catch.

"I heard Leliana and Josephine met with you the other night over tea?" Cullen continued, his voice a bit tight.

"Maybe. Do you mean the tea  _ you _ were supposed to drink with them?" Elodie joked.

"Mm," he grunted. "Yes, that tea. What all did they decide the discuss with you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"They didn't tell you?" Elodie asked, swatting away Dorian's hand as he tried to pinch her cheek.

"They read my messages but haven’t answered, and I can't  _ find _ them to ask in person," Cullen confessed, sighing into the phone. "Josephine seems to have gone to an internet cafe nearby to Skype with a representative of the Serault glass corporation like you asked, and I found a note I  _ assume _ was from Leliana that she was out running quote-unquote 'errands' past Val Royeaux."

"Everyone sounds so busy," Elodie murmured.

She thought back to the mildly offensive start to the conversation they’d had over tea just the other day. That had been the last moment she'd seen Leliana and Josephine, come to think of it. She made a little noise.

"Did they not discuss things with you before confronting me?" she wondered aloud.

"Confronting you?" Cullen asked, sounding pensive. "Was it that kind of conversation, then?"

"It was... an interesting one, yes. I'll have to give you all the details later," she promised, eliciting a dissatisfied groan from the Commander.

“You can’t just tell me now?”

“No,” Elodie teased. “If I did, then you’d have no reason to call me again.”

“I… could find a reason,” he stammered. Was he smiling? Elodie knew she was.

“I’m sure you could,” she replied. Cullen gave a little chuckle.

Maker. What a nice noise.

“Can I ask you about the rest of the conversation, if not the interrogation part?” Cullen asked.

"Oh. Sure. After an awkward start, we just talked about the... um..." Elodie looked around her at the others who had fallen completely silent. She blinked, then mouthed ‘what’ at them. Dorian twirled his mustache, and Bull’s mouth spread into a slow, knowing grin. Elodie waved her hand at them, mouthing 'go away' even though she knew there was no privacy to be found in the little sedan.

“Hello?” Cullen called. “Did I lose you?”

“S-sorry Cullen,” Elodie muttered, trying not to blush. “What was I saying.”

“After the awkward start, you were saying you talked about something?”

"Ah, yeah. I… we talked about… about the outing."

"Th-the outing?"

"Yeah, the," she lowered her voice, cupping her hand to her mouth and whispering, "the Halamshiral party."

"Oh-" Cullen started, but the rest of his answering mutter was cut off by the Tevinter gasping next to her.

"Did you just say Halamshiral?" Dorian asked.

“This exit has a McDonald’s, ‘Vint,” Bull growled, pointing in the front seat and almost hitting Elodie in the forehead, but Dorian barreled over his comment.

“What is the occasion? Will there be little black dresses? Dancing? Dish, you sneaky minx! Halamshiral, of all things!"

"Dibs!" Sera shouted from the backseat, sitting upright quickly enough to startle Elodie into jumping. The blonde elf had a cowlick several inches high on the left side of her head and a look of fiery hunger in her eyes. "I call dibs on the ham-whatsit!"

"Dorian, the exit!!" Bull roared, grabbing for the wheel as if he would turn it for the Tevinter. Elodie moved to shrug him off, suddenly squished into the passenger side window.

"Bull-"

"HAM-WHATSIT!"

"EXIT NOW!"

"Inquisitor?" came a small tinny cry from the phone receiver.

"Cullen," Elodie said with desperation as the car fell into turmoil. "Could I call you back when I get a second alone?"

"By all means," the Commander said.

"I'll call you soon," she promised.

"I look forward to it," he replied, and hung up before she could say goodbye. Had Dorian not swerved, narrowly missing a line of traffic cones, Elodie might have continued to stare at her blank phone screen for several minutes. For the moment, she had better things to think about than a half-flirty conversation with an awkward man who still wouldn’t call her by her first name.


	8. Sweet Tooth

Elodie began to notice after a few missions into the city. Whenever they spent any amount of time near the Emprise district, Cassandra would usually slip off. Sometimes for an hour, sometimes two, always without telling anyone where she was going.

After the confrontation with the Red Templar gangs in the area, and the freeing of their hostages with minimal police interference, the Inquisition's main mission was to get into an older high-rise apartment complex called Suledin Heights. Elodie had brought Cassandra, Dorian, and Sera along, and of all the people she expected to disappear, Cassandra was not one of them.

But sure enough, given two days in the Emprise district, and she’d asked permission to quietly take a 'meditative moment' away from where Elodie was planning with a few of her coding experts about their next plan of attack.

Of course Elodie granted it without batting an eye, as the former Seeker always wanted those moments when they weren't in the midst of sneaking through the city or fighting off brutes hopped up on red lyrium. It wasn't until Dorian noticed the pattern as well, on their third trip to the Emprise, that Elodie began to get curious.

"I wonder where she goes," he mused to himself over dinner one night. Elodie glanced over at him, setting down her chicken wrap and grabbing up some napkins from the table they shared. Sera was eating a popsicle as she hung upside down from the hotel bed watching TV.

"Wonder if she's gettin' her nooks and crannies dusted," the elf said past a mouthful of slushy raspberry ice.

"I don't think that's quite her style," Dorian chuckled.

"How would you know?" Sera asked, flipping over to look at them as Elodie checked her emails quickly. Updates from Leliana on some translation investigations she was doing. An email from Josephine about the Halamshiral affair. One email from Dagna that was simply an attached picture of a type of sniper rifle with some sort of experimental scope. An email from Cullen letting her know he’d found a few more serpenstone pipes she might be interested in requisitioning for melting into shells. Elodie looked up as Dorian scoffed at Sera.

"Do  _ you _ have a tinder account?" Dorian asked. Sera rolled her eyes and sucked the remains of her popsicle off of its stick. "That's what I thought."

"That don't mean someone can't get their pillows fluffed now and again."

"True enough," the Tevinter allowed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head. "But I still think it's not her style."

“I bet you a dollar it is.”

“You’re on.”

A click of the room key made them all flinch into ready mode, and the trio only relaxed when Cassandra opened the door.

“What?” she demanded, barely concealing a plastic bag of pastries behind her back and a blush of embarrassment on the crest of her cheeks. She licked her lips where a tiny pink sprinkle lay as evidence, and Elodie could only think of one other district that particular bakery chain was located in. All three of them seemed to collectively smirk, putting Cassandra even more on edge. “What,” she growled, lower this time.

“Nothing,” Dorian replied, his voice positively dripping honey. With a disgusted noise that was decidedly quieter than her usual grunts, Cassandra went to her bed and tucked the bag into her backpack.

“Smug little arse,” Sera snapped, throwing a few quarters across the room at the Tevinter.

“The saint of subtlety is what you are, Sera,” Dorian sighed. He paused, narrowing his eyes, then tossed her a few bills along with her coins. “It was too easy a bet. Grab me an orange soda from the vending machine and get yourself whatever. We’ll call it a tie.”

“Rrgh. Fine.” The elf left, bounding past them on the way to the vending machines.

“Bet you five bucks she shakes it up before she gives it to you,” Elodie muttered.

“Gambling in the Inquisition,” Cassandra sighed. “What’s next? Prostitution?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Dorian warned, nodding at Elodie as he stood and patted his hip. “Unlike those frilly cakes, these tarts are more expensive than you could ever afford.”

“Ugh.”


	9. Asking For Help

The Hinterlands didn't use to be as desolate as they were now. They used to be known for their rolling hills, prosperous pitch industries, and beautiful protected forests. They had been a luxury area to visit, with even the pizza parlors boasting fresh spring water kneaded right into their dough.

Now, torn apart by groups of roaming looters and thugs, ravaged by floods from dams broken in protest, and stubbornly kept up by the farmers and factory workers that had refused to leave their lands, the Hinterlands were a bit of a chore. The highways the Inquisition had repaired were still rife with IEDs, and the territories they'd cleared of gangs and mercenaries seemed to just breed them anew once the Inquisition turned away. So they came back, again and again, hoping to built the lands up steadily over time if they just kept at it.

At the moment, Elodie, Varric, Dorian, and The Iron Bull were unloading their stuff into their rooms at a rather dilapidated-looking bed and breakfast. It was going to be a longer haul than they'd anticipated.

The bed and breakfast was run by a local mechanic's daughter. The man, who'd long since been working for the Inquisition, asked Elodie to drop by now and again to check in on his daughter, Seanna. So far she'd been good. Seanna was keeping up with her father's autoparts shop and happy to mod Elodie's beater Surefoot to her heart's content whenever she visited.

It was supposed to have been a short visit this time around too, just to install some longer radio antennae and switch out the camber plates. But then Elodie had seen how rundown Seanna's B&B was getting. Seanna said she kept guests, weary travelers or refugees, and told them that her mom was still around to help tend to the meager garden they kept out back, but Elodie suspected she needed more help than she was going to ask for.

"Don't worry, Inquisitor," Seanna said over dinner.

"Who said I was worried?" Elodie joked, pausing with her soup spoon halfway to her lips.

"I can just kind of tell. You've been asking a lot about the repairs I gotta do on the place."

"I can't be curious?"

"You can," Seanna said, biting back a smile. "Just don't be under the impression you're subtle about it."

"Fair enough," Elodie answered with a laugh.

"Go easy there, Speedy," Varric teased Seanna goodnaturedly while Bull got up to clean the dishes. "She'll go full force on this place if you give her permission."

"Well I don't," Seanna answered, moving to help Dorian as he spooned leftover soup into a Tupperware. "Leave that sweet thing, I'll get it."

"I insist," Dorian said gently.

"I don't like charity," Seanna answered, motioning to Dorian as if she were speaking to him and not to Elodie. Her voice was still warm, though, still kind. Elodie slurped up the last of her soup and began to help clear the table with the rest of the Inquisition members.

"It's not charity, it's helping," she said to Seanna as she began to dry dishes Bull had finished washing.

"Stubborn girl," Seanna answered, a laugh at the edge of her voice.

"You have no idea," Dorian and Varric both answered at once.

* * *

 

After discussing it with her other members, they elected to drop some coin on four separate rooms for the next few nights. It would help Seanna and the B&B out, and it would afford them some sweet, sweet privacy. Not that Elodie didn't love her companions to pieces, but Bull snored, Dorian ran too hot, and Varric was immobile until his alarm went off no matter what you did. Elodie wanted to be able to go to sleep when and how she wanted, without sharing a bed, floor, or couch with someone else in the room.

The rooms in Seanna's B&B were nice, if not a bite old. The comforter smelled like it had been freshly washed, the linens crisp and clean. The towels were fluffy, and Elodie took a minute to glance over the little frames of pressed flowers hung up in a pleasant diagonal line along the wall, leading to a little reader's nook by the bay window. She took off her bra, rubbing at where the hook had dug into her back during dinner, and plugged in her charger right away.

The first thing she did was to type in the lengthy numerical password to the WiFi that Seanna had given her. After that, once her phone finally had signal again, Elodie turned on the television in her room to give some quiet white noise. In the area, there were only two channels: one played old black and white movies from an era centuries past, and one played 24-hour news channel updating everyone in the Hinterlands on refugee statuses.

Elodie chose the movie channel.

She was brushing her teeth, about to turn in for a well-earned rest, when she noticed her phone blinking yellow on the charging block. She walked over, picked it up with her toothbrush still in her mouth, and tapped the little yellow ghost to open up the app.

Cullen had snapped her some pictures. Instead of watching them all in quick succession, Elodie swiped to see when he'd sent them. They were from various times throughout the day, but the Hinterlands had absolutely no signal when they weren't near one of two outposts. It looked like Cullen had sent three pictures in the morning and one just a few minutes ago.

The morning pictures were pretty usual for the him: two plants, something he sent when he went walking. The next one was just of the rain outside his window, and the caption was: _take care, stay dry_.

Elodie let out a little breath. It... was sweet, but it didn't really seem like Cullen to send that. Was he worried about something? The picture faded into a snap that sent Elodie's blood running cold.

It was of Cullen's desk, no papers on it. He had finished his work, but was still awake.

The caption: _today's been rough._

Elodie didn't hesitate. She closed out of the app and opened her phone, clicking through her recent calls to find Cullen's name. She pressed it, spitting toothpaste as she rinsed her mouth with tap water.

He picked up on the third ring.

"Inquisitor?"

"Hey," she said, his voice stirring something within her. He sounded harried, tired, even more so than usual. "I got your snap."

"Oh." A long pause on the other line, then a groan and a soft shush of fabric. He must have lied down. "I'm sorry. It was... a moment of weakness."

"Don't do that," she shushed.

"You have enough to worry about, I don't want you to feel like you-"

"I don't mind," Elodie said, moving to the bed to sit back against her pillows, all thoughts of sleep banished. "We're done for the day, and I have a room all to myself for once. I can listen."

"It..." he caught himself, and Elodie could hear him sigh deeply. He stayed quiet for a long time, and if Elodie didn't know any better, she would have thought he hung up. She stayed, waiting, patient, and he finally spoke again. "I'm struggling today more than other days."

"With what?"

"The withdrawal," he said, his voice small. As if even admitting it out loud was a failure to endure.

"Ah." Elodie leaned back on her own pillows with a sigh. "Did you talk to Cassandra?"

"It's not as bad as all that," Cullen answered. "I'm just... it's just hard today."

He'd promised Elodie in their talks before that his withdrawal symptoms were bearable for now. He'd told her Cassandra would watch him, and if he was too sick to continue, he'd be replaced. He'd kept his fucking lyrium kit just the same. Elodie wondered if that had been why he sent her the picture of the desk. The lyrium kit was in the top drawer, locked, easily accessible should he need it.

"You don't need it," Elodie said, voicing her thoughts aloud by accident.

"What?"

"I want you to know, you don't need it," she amended softly. "It might feel as if you do. It might feel miserable. But I know you."

"Do you?"

"I-I'd like to think I do," Elodie said, her voice almost failing her. She swallowed, uncertain. "At least, from what you've shown me, I think you're very brave."

He made a little noise on the other end of the line. Elodie frowned.

"Can you... can you tell me what it feels like? Today, especially?"

"It's like my head is being pressed in a vice, just on either side of my temples. I took some aspirin, but waiting for it to kick in is torture, feels like my body is exhausted, but my mind won't let me sleep. I'm hyper-aware of my heartbeat, my breathing, my every tendon creaking if I roll over too quickly."

Elodie could hear the strain in his voice, could hear the pain he described leaking into his tone. She ached too, wishing she was back at Skyhold.

But she had work to do. As did he.

"I'm glad you told me," she murmured.

"There's not much you can do, unfortunately."

"Yeah, but it can help, just to talk about it."

"It was nice to be able to admit it, and to know it was going to disappear after three seconds," Cullen said gravely. "I don't necessarily want to talk about it."

"Did you send that snap to just me, then?" she asked softly. A grunt, one she didn't know was affirmative or not. "Hmm?"

"Yes," he replied.

"You don't really want to talk to anyone else right now?"

"What, like getting Cassandra?"

"I mean, yeah," Elodie said, shrugging. "Or anyone nearby. Someone who could physically be closer than I can."

"No." Cullen gave a little groan, as if the pressure in his skull had doubled. Elodie waited until he let out his held breath in a hiss of an exhale. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Can you do me a favor?" Elodie asked, glossing over the apology he didn't need to give her. Cullen paused, as if considering it.

"If I can."

"Go to the bathroom, grab a cloth, run it under cold tap water. Wring it as dry as you can, but get it as cold as you can, and then come back and lie down."

Cullen paused, then cleared his throat, and Elodie could hear him setting the phone down on a hard surface. Footsteps, soft and bare, then nothing. Faintly, if she trained her ears hard, she could hear running water as he obeyed her. She got up and went to the tap herself, getting a drink to clear her throat before Cullen came back.

"Alright. What now?" he asked, his voice laced with fatigue.

"Now," Elodie said gently, "lie back, and fold that cloth over your eyes. Put me on speakerphone, put me near you somewhere it doesn't make your headache worse."

She could hear Cullen sigh, and then settle. He let out a soft grunt through gritted teeth, at what Elodie assumed was the cold cloth on his eyes.

"You're on speaker," he said, sounding a bit further away.

"Okay." Elodie took a steeling breath. "I know this will be a bit weird at first, but just... it might help you feel better."

"Are you going to tell me a story?" Cullen asked, his voice amused. Elodie smiled up at the ceiling, and then sat up straight.

"No." She paused, cleared her throat, and then began to sing. " _We danced naked outside of your bathroom, until our bare feet sweat tracks in the tile..._ "

The song was just the first thing she could think of, one of the last ones that had come up on her mix CD that she'd made for the trip. The original version had such soul, the singer almost shouting out his feelings after the first verse, but Elodie kept her timbre quiet. It was meant to soothe, not to impress. Steadily, she sent Cullen note after note through the phone.

" _Future love, don't fall apart..._ "

She paused before the second verse, trying to remember how it went, and Cullen made a tiny noise.

"Don't stop," he murmured in a voice Elodie barely recognized.

She continued, the song itself rather simple as the chorus repeated itself until the very end after the second verse. Cullen didn't seem to mind. When she finished, she waited, letting the silence of Cullen's room drift through the phone back to her patient ears.

"Do you want me to sing another?" she asked, keeping her voice low, calming, as soothing as she could muster. Cullen breathed in deeply.

"Can you?"

"Of course," Elodie answered. "Tell me what you want to hear."

"Something sweet, like that," he replied.

"Alright..." Elodie paused, "Um... okay, I've got one. _I took my love, I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around..._ "

She continued, singing soft lullaby after lullaby into the phone until the movie on the television was rolling grainy credits across the screen. Every time Elodie checked with Cullen, asking him if he wanted more, he would ask her if she was okay before he accepted. Even in his most vulnerable moment, the thought of being a burden seemed to be paramount to him. She didn't know how to tell him that she was happy to be the person he could reach out to when he needed, was happy to be able to alleviate a fraction of his pain if he let her. There were no words to be said.

And so Elodie just sang.

" _And do you want me, like I want you? Are you passing me by, or am I standing still?"_  she finished, trailing off softly. She could hear Cullen breathe in deeply, a sigh, a sound he'd made at the end of the last three songs she'd sung. She chuckled. "Getting tired, are we?"

"I might be able to sleep now," Cullen admitted.

"That's good."

"How about you?"

"Oh yeah," Elodie said, laughing gently. "But this was nice."

"You really didn't mind?"

"Not at all."

"Then... I'm glad," Cullen whispered. He shifted, and Elodie imagined him in bed, limbs growing heavy with sleep, curls splayed on the pillow, eyes dark. She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say next.

"I'll let you go," she murmured. "Let you get to sleep. Rest up. I'll be back before you know it."

That last phrase. She wasn't sure why she said it. It wasn't like he'd called her because he missed her; she was just one of two people who knew about his recovery from stopping lyrium cold-turkey, and she understood why Cullen hadn't necessarily wanted to ask Cassandra to comfort him during a tough time.

Still. It was nice being wanted, even if she was just playing pretend.

"Sleep well, Cullen," she whispered.

"You too..." he moved to the phone, picking it up, and she was positive that he was going to hang up without another word.

But he didn't. He clicked the speakerphone off, she could tell because of the way his voice was clear as a bell for what he said next.

"Elodie?"

"Y-yeah," she stuttered, her name on Cullen's lips sending a trill of energy through her spine. His voice was calm, relaxed. She heard him stretch, maybe laying back against the pillows.

"Thank you."

Elodie smiled, falling slowly back onto the plush cream comforter that smelled slightly of mothballs and lavender.

"Anytime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are literally the first songs I thought of to sing to someone who needed a little sweetness. I have ideas for what she sings to Cullen entirely, but I kinda like leaving the middle songs to your imagination. What d'you think she would've sung? The first one was [Foxing's Night Channels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3w-leixvpw), the second was [Landslide](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4_wXPZ1Bnk) (by either the Dixie Chicks or Fleetwood Mac, whatever floats your boat), and the last is [Jewel's Standing Still](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3WMMwlHgZI).


	10. The Commander's Cure-All For The Common Cold

"How long have you had that cough, dear?" Vivienne asked, looking up from her holographic keyboard as Elodie cleared her throat into her gloved hand.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “since I got back from the Fallow Mire water treament facility, I guess.”

“So… that’s been, what, five days now?” Vivienne clucked her tongue.

"It's nothing," Elodie evaded. "Just a tickle."

"Well that  _ tickle, _ " she repeated, her voice heavy with tactful disbelief as she clicked off her projector and pushed her rolling chair away from her desk, "should be looked at. Immediately. We don't want you to out of commission before your trip to the Winter Palace."

"That's not for another two weeks, Vivienne," Elodie said, but even that small amount of talking hurt. She was trying to focus on replying to some of the requests she'd been sent through their website, but her eyes felt too hot and her limbs flimsy.

For the last hour she’d been struggling to stay awake, but there was too much work to be done for her to stop now. She couldn’t take a break and force one of her companions to pick up the slack. Or worse, one of her advisors.

Before she could protest further, a cool wrist was pressed gently to her forehead. A diamond tennis bracelet dangled in front of Elodie's face. Rather than have her eyes cross, she closed them against the glimmering stones. She gave an unconscious mewl, a tiny noise that drew a fresh tut of disapproval from her lead marketing consultant.

"Sweetheart, you're feverish. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist you get to bed and rest."

"It's not late enough to go to bed, and I have to finish these-"

"I will make the arrangements, Inquisitor," Vivienne said as she moved her hand from Elodie's forehead to smooth a few of the elf's curls back behind her ears. "Don't pout, it's unbecoming."

Elodie laughed at that, a noise that hurt her throat further. Vivienne made a concerned sound and patted Elodie's shoulder, moving back to her own keyboard to shut down her computer.

"It's just a cold," Elodie said. "There's been no signs of any sort of bacterial infection, no severe aches, no-"

"Self-assessment is a biased, one might even say  _ dangerous _ way to try to recover from illness, my dear."

"Vivienne," Elodie groaned, leaning back in her desk chair as she typed in her encryption key that Leliana had picked for her. "Just... what do you think it is then?"

"I'm not a doctor," Vivienne answered carefully, "but I agree. It seems like a common cold." She stood and got their coats, bringing Elodie hers. “That doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to take a break to recover, however.”

"We're going back to the hotel, right?" Elodie asked, narrowing her eyes at Vivienne as she slid on a bright white and silver trenchcoat that contrasted beautifully with her dark skin. “You’re not going to make me go to the doctor, right?”

The techsavvy enchantress smiled graciously.

"Not if you don’t want to.”

“I want to go back to Skyhold,” Elodie whispered. “If we an.”

“Of course, darling. I'll call us a cab."

* * *

 

Back at the Skyhold hotel, Elodie sat despondent in the kitchens as Varric and Cole stood making some type of soup. Tea, a special blend of herbs to help her sleep according to Vivienne, sat untouched in a mug before her. It hurt to swallow; she didn't want to keep accumulating more and more liquid in front of her to continue pouring down her pained throat.

"Toffee?" Varric called, and she closed her eyes against the slight raise in volume in his voice. The pleasant hum he used when speaking in low tones to Cole was a bit sharper now. "You doing okay?"

"Don't worry," Elodie said as she covered her face with her fingers. "I'm still with you."

"With us, but withering," Cole murmured. "Aches and pains, but nothing a soup can't soothe."

"Exactly, kid," Varric agreed. "Stir in a pinch of nutmeg, it'll add some depth."

"Soup should be shallow."

"Not my soup," the dwarf chuckled.

Elodie felt herself fading. She was wrapped in a blanket and her most comfortable zippered hoodie and flannel pajama top. The sweatpants she was wearing were lent to her by a very concerned Cassandra, who insisted that for once Elodie not wear the yoga pants she was so fond of. Elodie was certain she was morphing into a pile of blankets, slowly but surely. At least that would mean she wouldn't have to swallow past the scratchy lump in her throat any longer.

"Drink, and it will hurt less," Cole mumbled, his voice breathy as he stirred the pot of chicken soup.

“He’s right, Inquisitor. You’ve gotta try.”

Varric turned back to Elodie, and she opened her eyes to shoot him what she hoped was a withering look.

"I know."

"He's just trying to help how he can," Varric said, dipping a ladle into the finished soup and bringing over a bowl to set in front of Elodie. "You look like death."

"It's just a cold," Elodie insisted. "I'll be fine once I can sleep it off."

"Good. Eat first, then sleep."

Varric set a spoon beside her. He sat across from her and took his reading glasses from his front shirt pocket, of which the top two buttons were perpetually undone. Elodie blearily drew the hot bowl towards herself, one arm snaking out of the blankets with difficulty. Varric eyed her as Cole came to sit next to him.

"You forgot this," Cole said, handing over a binder.

"Thanks, kid," Varric said, setting the binder down in front of himself and opening it to about the middle.

"What's that?" Elodie asked as she took a spoonful of soup and blew weakly on it.

"My latest manuscript for a serial I probably shouldn't even be continuing," Varric said with a sigh.

"Oh good. You decided to write it then," Elodie immediately felt her face split with gratitude, which brought on a thump of splitting headache. Her smile faded and she set her spoon down again, emptying its cooled contents back into the steaming bowl.

"Toffee..."

"I'm fine," she moaned, sounding more pitiful than anything. Cole moved to her side, rubbing her shoulderblades through the blankets and layers of fluff.

"What will help?" he asked, looking to both her and Varric, his expression open and desperate to find a solution.

"Aspirin, most likely," Varric said, sighing. Cole pushed up from his chair to leave the kitchen in search of a medicine cabinet while Varric looked at Elodie over the rim of his glasses. "You know you could see a doctor. We have a few of them staying here at the Skyhold."

"They'll tell me what you're telling me, what Vivienne told me, and what Josephine is probably texting me right now," Elodie said, pulling her phone out from her sweatpants with difficulty to set it on the table. "Rest, push fluids, and eat even if I'm not super hungry."

"So it won't do me any good to repeat that you should take a bite of my soup, I guess?"

"I'm sorry," Elodie mumbled, and she took in a spoonful before unlocking her phone. Chewing slowly, she forgot about her phone entirely. It was hot, comforting, slightly acidic with a hint of thyme and rosemary and lemon. Carrots were soft but not mushy, potatoes were perfectly done so that they burst with soft warmth under her teeth, and celery was just al dente enough to provide a variety of texture. The chicken itself was tender and still held the faint taste of butter somehow. How had he done that in a soup, when the meat was submerged in broth? Elodie gave a moan of approval.

"Good stuff?"

Elodie could only nod. It still hurt to swallow, incredibly so, but she found herself spooning another mouthful up when she was hardly finished with the first. Her appetite was inspired, back with a vengeance, and Varric chuckled as he turned back to his manuscript.

"Plenty more, so eat up," he said.

"It's so great," she replied, swallowing with difficulty. She washed it down with tea that now sat cold and was slightly easier to keep down. The taste of the herbs from Vivienne's tea was grating in contrast to the gourmet symphony that Varric had constructed before her. Looking down at her bowl, she saw her phone blip with a tiny green dot to signal she had an unread message left in her inbox. She clicked it on, pressing her fingerprint to the pad, expecting a reprimand from her Antivan friend.

_ C_Rutherford 08:42pm _

**_How are you feeling? I hope this text doesn't wake you if you're asleep, but I heard you were under the weather._ **

She smiled down at her phone and typed out a reply to Cullen.

_ EloDeezNuts 08:56pm _

**_In the kitchen. Trying to eat soup. Feel absolutely horrible._ **

_ EloDeezNuts 08:57pm _

**_You're sweet for asking, though._ **

She paused, eating some more while Varric sighed his way through editing a few paragraphs and mumbling something about 'sword metaphors', when her phone blipped up again almost immediately.

_ C_Rutherford 08:58pm _

**_Interesting name change, Inquisitor._ **

Elodie paused, not sure what he meant, until she scrolled up and looked at her ID. Swallowing down a curse along with her mouthful of soup, she set her spoon down to shoot back a text.

_ EloDeezNuts 08:58pm _

**_Fucking. Sera._ **

_ C_Rutherford 08:59pm _

**_I kind of figured._** **_You should stop leaving your phone unlocked around her._**

Elodie paused and changed her name in the settings quickly, wondering just how many texts she'd sent before Cullen had brought it to her attention.

_ El'assan 09:00pm _

**_I don't leave it unlocked around her._ **

_ El'assan 09:00pm _

**_I have it set to my fingerprints. No idea how she got into it!_ **

_ C_Rutherford 09:01pm _

**_You obviously need more than one password, then._ **

A pause, and Elodie set her phone down, wondering if that was the end of it. Her eyes burned with the heat of her fever, her joints ached as she adjusted the blanket up over her shoulders. The lights of the kitchen were low and warm, and she found herself unable to lift the spoon again to her mouth. All she wanted to do was sleep. She was drifting as she sat when her phone buzzed gently again.

_ C_Rutherford 09:05pm _

**_Still in the kitchen?_ **

_ El'assan 09:05pm _

**_Yes._ **

On a whim, maybe because of the fever, she found herself typing out another message and hitting send before she could think better of it.

_ El'assan 09:06pm _

**_Come sit with me?_ **

The sound of the tap turning on startled her into flinching. Looking up, she saw that Cole was walking over to her with a tall glass of water and his other palm enclosed around what she could only assume were pain pills.

"These will help," he murmured, setting an unopened foil of four tiny white pills in front of her. Elodie could read 'ibuprofen' very clearly across the back, and it made her feel better knowing what specifically he'd brought her.

"Thank you Cole," she replied, taking the outstretched glass.

"You should drink all of that," Varric mused.

"I have enough to drink already," Elodie grunted, but she threw back two of the little ibuprofens and swallowed two gulps of water with difficulty. She was about to say more when she heard heavy footsteps just outside the kitchen door. She set the glass down and shifted to see who it was, sighing at the effort. She turned just in time to see a swath of burgundy enter the room.

"Curly," Varric said, pulling his glasses off to better see Cullen in the low light. "What a nice surprise. Want some dinner?"

"You made dinner?" Cullen asked, sitting down beside Elodie. His hand moved to her shoulder, and automatically she tipped over onto him. His tiny noise of surprise was not lost on her, but Varric seemed to pretend like he hadn't heard. Cullen cleared his throat to try to cover it.

"I'm sick," Elodie mumbled into his shoulder.

"The soup's for Toffee here, but there is plenty leftover," Varric said, closing the binder and moving towards the stove. "Want some?"

"I'll take a bowl," Cullen answered, and Elodie felt his free hand, the one not sliding across her shoulders as he pulled her closer, press to her forehead. "You're really warm, Inquisitor."

"I'm fine," she chuckled. "You'd think none of you have ever had a cold before."

"We worry because we care," Varric added, placing a bowl down in front of Cullen.

"Smells amazing," the Commander said. He jostled Elodie gently. "Is it any good?"

"Mmhmm," Elodie hummed.

"She ate two spoonfuls," Varric said ruefully. "I might need a more honest assessment than that."

"Maybe we can get you to eat a few more spoonfuls and decide after that?" Cullen murmured, pulling his hand away from Elodie's forehead. She nodded, sitting up and away from him, moving heavy fingers over to where she'd dropped her spoon in the bowl of broth. Shakily, she ate a few more mouthfuls. She chewed very slowly, putting off the painful act of swallowing as long as she could. Even as he ate, Cullen's left hand stayed on the back of Elodie's chair, but nobody said a word about it.

* * *

 

She must have fallen asleep sitting up at the table. When she woke up, Varric and Cullen were speaking in low tones while they washed dishes. Cole was gone, as was her bowl of unfinished soup and her half sipped mug of tea. Her glass of water, however, was still there. Elodie ignored it and put her arms on the table, putting her forehead on them and wrapping the blanket tighter around herself.

"Hey," a gentle voice and a heavy hand on her curls. "Let's go."

"What time is it?" she groaned.

"Past ten," Cullen answered, his voice rough. "Time to go to bed."

"Okay." She sat up straighter, but couldn't raise her head higher. Her eyes had graduated from too hot to intensely achy, her joints were stinging every time she tried to move, and she felt like she was half asleep already. She hated this. She needed to sleep it off, maybe for a few days, and break this fever-- but she couldn't move, wouldn't be able to make it to her room on the top floor of the renovated hotel. She gave a deep sigh and leaned her head back onto the table in defeat.

"Curly," Varric said, and some low gruff discussion was had that Elodie couldn't keep her right mind for. She just wanted to sleep.

Her chair was being pulled out. Arms at her shoulders and under the back of her knees, scooping up her along with her blanket cocoon. A burgundy North Face with a black and red fur trim. She nuzzled deeper into a strong embrace, fever blinking out the edges of her vision. Other hands tucked her in further and she could feel Cullen clear his throat through his perpetual bulletproof vest. The vibrations lulled her further.

He jostled her to get her to sit up further on his chest, and Elodie complied, winding her arms around his neck as he moved.

"I can walk," she said, and Cullen chuckled as a door opened and he walked towards the elevators.

"Do you want me to put you down so that you can?"

"Umm..." Elodie swallowed with difficulty. "It doesn't bother you, to carry me?"

"You weigh next to nothing," Cullen said gruffly, and the elevator doors opened with a ding. "Plus, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a slight bit of gratitude at the given situation."

"Gratitude," Elodie repeated in a mumble. "What for?"

They moved into the elevators, a more muffled space, and she turned to look up at him. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and he didn't look down at her while he moved them forward. He strained to press the button while still holding onto her, his body curving further around hers, encircling her with warmth. She closed her eyes against the heat, against the overwhelming pace her heart suddenly beat out in her chest. She gave a little moan against Cullen's jugular, and his arms seemed to tighten around her even further. He managed to hit the button and relaxed backwards. The elevator began to move.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded into his fur collar, feeling anything but. What was happening?

"You were telling me about gratitude," Elodie rasped, feeling splinters in her throat with every word she spoke.

"Was I?"

"Cullen," she whispered, pushing back slightly to try to get him to look down at her. He drew in a sharp breath and moved so that he could make eye contact, his expression unreadable. Elodie couldn't tell if the haziness was due to the poor lighting in the elevator, or the fever she was definitely close to breaking, but it made her feel like her eyes were going to cross. She leaned forward again, slamming her forehead weakly into his collarbone. "Don't tease."

"Forgive me," he breathed back, his lips near the crown of her head. She tried to laugh, a frail little puff of air that made his fur flutter. Her, forgive him? For some reason the thought was hilarious.

Half conscious, sore, and weak, Elodie made a soft humming noise to try to clear her throat. The elevator made a quiet chime in response, and she shut her eyes to the hallway light. The next time she opened them, Cullen was fumbling for the door to the converted penthouse suite, her quarters.

"Let me stand," she said, shifting her weight to put her legs down.

"I can handle it," he retorted, still grappling with the doorknob.

"It’s locked. I have the keycard in my pocket, Cullen," Elodie said with difficulty. Why did he have to be this close now, when it hurt to speak and think and feel him pressing her to his chest? Why couldn't he do this when there wasn't any hurt behind the holding?

Elodie was strangely happy that Cole was no longer around. That thought sounded suspiciously like something he would say.

Cullen gave a frustrated sigh and helped her stand on shaky legs. She fumbled in her pocket until she got her keycard and swiped it feebly. The light blipped green on the lock and she pulled down on the handle. She thought that would be it, so she turned to say goodnight to the Commander. He caught her low, grabbing her up again, the blanket falling outside her door as he pushed inside with his hip and carried her across the threshold.

"You don't have to-"

"I'll have you know," Cullen said, very gently speaking over her as he walked across the suite to where her bedroom was, "that the other day? When I bragged about my cure-all? I wasn't making things up."

"Oh?"

"When I was little, my younger brother use to get sick a lot. Respiratory infections, mainly," he grunted as he pushed open her bedroom door with the toe of his boot. Elodie was conscious enough to be grateful that she'd recently done laundry and hadn’t left a mess for him to see.

“Were you a sick child too?”

He set her on the bed and sighed as she sat up.

"No, not really. And I wasn’t home after I turned thirteen to see if my brother ever grew out of it,” he said casually. Before Elodie could even comment on that, he continued, “But my brother and oldest sister seemed to always be passing something back and forth between the two of them. He had it worse usually, couldn't sleep for coughing most nights, so my mother made this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a film canister.

Elodie frowned and brushed her curls away from her face, regretting how sweaty they were. She shifted her gaze to his, one eyebrow quirked.

“It’s so small.”

He laughed, making her wonder how ridiculous she must look.

"It’s potent, though, smell."

She took the canister warily, opened it, and saw that it was something that looked like homemade lip gloss. Sniffing the air above it without sticking her nose directly in, she could smell faint hints of honey, lavender, and other, darker herbs in what she assumed was soft wax. She looked up with an appreciative nod and handed it back.

"Did your mom make this, then?"

"No," he gave a half-smile, looking wistful. "I never asked her the recipe. I tried my best to recreate it myself. It's a combination of essential oils and some beeswax," he confessed, looking down into the canister with a tiny smile playing across his lips. "Smells like home to me. Maybe that's what helps me sleep, more so than the oils."

"Do you miss it?"

"Hmm?" he asked, looking up with cloudy eyes. Elodie's mouth fell open slightly at the sight. She'd never seen him look so young.

"Your home, Cullen. Your family."

"It's been ages since I've been home," he evaded. He sighed, turning from her, then walked away. She blinked hard, trying to will herself to stay steady in the absence of a strong hand at her elbow. He was back before she had time to think about more, his hand at her knee. He'd brought over a chair from the desk and set it beside the nightstand, and he was settling into it like he intended to stay.

"Are you spending the night?" she murmured, falling to the side into her cushions. Cullen opened his mouth, closed it again, and seemed to search the floor for words to say. Elodie reached out, patting a hand on his knee in a mirror of his gesture. "Hey." He looked up through his lashes at her, but she could feel herself fitfully drifting into harsher aches as her fever intensified. She couldn't hold his gaze for long. "I don't feel so good," she whispered.

"This will help," he replied.

"Where do you usually put it?"

"I..." he reddened and she bit her lip against the smile that threatened to well up automatically. He cleared his throat as he focused on a spot by her shoulder instead of making eye contact. "Collarbone and sternum. That way it's less strong than if you put it right under your nose. The smell is what helps."

"It's strong enough to work through your shirt?" Elodie asked.

"No," Cullen said firmly, finally bringing his eyes to hers. "I don't like sleeping fully dressed." She burst into a fit of nervous giggles that stung her throat, but that she couldn't stop from bubbling up. He smiled at the sound, furrowing his brow in mock offense. "Does the thought of me shirtless amuse you so?"

"It does something to me," Elodie said between giggles. His eyes darkened, but his smile stuck around. "Do you always sleep shirtless, or just when you're sick?" she teased.

"Why are you so interested?"

She laughed once more, a sound that faded into a dull hum as she felt her eyes closing against her strongest efforts. She felt her hand falling from his knee and she gripped hard to keep it in place, eliciting a twitch from Cullen as she dug her nails gently into his skin through the fabric of his jeans. She couldn't trust her shaky hands to do what she needed, so she turned to the man at her side, whose hands were busy clutching a plastic film canister of homemade cure-all.

"Unzip my sweatshirt."

"Beg pardon?"

"Unzip my sweatshirt," Elodie said more slowly, her fingers gripping his black jeans tight. "I've got a flannel on underneath, and I need you to unbutton that too. If my chest really is the best place for that medicine, that should do it."

"I... Elodie..." he shook his head, the hand holding the cap to the canister coming up to drag his blond curls back away from his forehead. "You're sick and-"

"And I want to feel better," she said, struggling to force the words past the sting in her throat. "Now I know pajama flannel is really sexy," she paused when he chuckled, "but if you could keep it together for a few minutes, I would really like to try what you made."

He shook his head at her and she gave a little groan as she adjusted herself on her side. Everything seemed to hurt, every pump of her heart felt like someone tapping on the side of her temples.

"Seriously, though, Elodie," her name snapped her attention back to him. "Before I do this," he brushed a curl back behind her ear. She watched him hesitating, watched him biting his lower lip. He narrowed his eyes. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of this before."

"What?" Elodie snickered, her voice raspy. "Me, sick in bed?"

"Well no," he paused. He looked down at the hand of hers that was holding his knee. "But you asking me to undress you is nice." Glancing back up, he clenched his jaw at her expression and stammered out, "No, that is-- I didn't mean for it to sound like-- oh, Maker's breath," he shook his head again, giving up. "I sound like a complete ass."

"You don't," she whispered.

"You'd tell me if I was being inappropriate, right?" His voice was shaky. Elodie almost gasped when his calloused palm covered the hand she had on his knee. "I don't want to make things weird between us."

"I asked you to undress me, didn't I?" Elodie whispered.

He looked like he was about to stutter out something else, but she interrupted him quietly. Her fingers sought for his, threading through them gently.

"Am I taking advantage of your gentlemanly honor?" she asked, serious even as she teased.

Cullen barked a laugh, making her flinch.

"You most certainly are not," he stated, looking up at her with a rueful smile.  She blinked slow, wondering if he was real, or if this was all a dream. He was still there when she opened her eyes, even though his smile was not. "But that's enough confessions for one night. Turn on your back."

"Yes sir," Elodie joked, shifting with difficulty. Her limbs felt bruised and stiff, one ache piling onto another as she moved. She settled, kicking her legs out so that the sheets and quilt were bunched up at the bottom of the bed instead of underneath of her.

Cullen scooted his chair closer to the bed and set his concoction on the bedside table. He reached over and unzipped her sweatshirt slowly, his hands steadier than Elodie knew hers would've been if the situations were reversed.

"Is it that you're too weak to do this yourself," Cullen asked as he popped open the first button on her flannel, "or did you really just want me to be the one to undress you?"

"You're so cold," she whimpered as his hands brushed the skin near her neck. She twisted from them, uncomfortable. He frowned in sympathy.

"I'm not cold," he answered, "you're just burning up. If your fever doesn't break within a couple of hours I'm going to take you to a doctor."

He continued to slide button after button open, and Elodie screwed her eyes shut as he dragged a chilled knuckle across the center of her chest. Cullen made a small noise, a breath voiced.

"I'll stop here," he murmured.

Her breathing was coming quicker, a line of her skin visible a few inches down from her throat. He'd left her shirt mostly closed, but the breath of room-temperature air hitting her skin left her shivering.

"Still cold," she said. He obliged, pulling up the blankets until they touched just under where her third button was undone. "Medicine," she reminded him, noticing how his hands lay heavy on either side of her. He was leaning over her, his jacket creating a curtain over her. She could reach up and touch the kevlar under his shirt if she wanted. He put his weight on his right arm, moving to sit on the bed instead of the chair, and reached for the container of medicine.

"Did your parents ever do something like this when you were little? Like how my mother did for my brother?" he asked as he dipped two fingers into the plastic film canister, drawing out a dab of beeswax.

"What?"

"This will feel like ice to you," Cullen explained. "It might be helpful to talk through it."

"I can take it."

"I know," he chuckled. "I might also be trying to get to know you a little better."

"Oh. I--" she hissed through her teeth as he brought two fingers to her chest, circling gently.

"I'm sorry, I know," he soothed.

"No, it's not cold. It's--" she whimpered.

It felt good. She couldn't say anything more for fear that he would stop. She let out a noise through gritted teeth that would've embarrassed her had she not been battling a high fever that left her helpless; at least, that's what she told herself as she arched weakly into his hand.

"Talk to me," he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. The way he flattened his palm onto the center of her chest and let his thumb trace a long arc along her ribcage, coming dangerously close to brushing the curve of her breast nearest to her heart, hinted that he might need the distraction more than she did.

"When I was little," she said with difficulty, "I wasn't sick much. Broken bones and stitches were more my deal."

"Really?" Cullen tilted his head. "From exploring?"

"Yes," Elodie nodded, swallowing, wishing she had water. Her throat was so dry. "But also fighting."

"I could see that," he laughed.

"When I did get sick," she whispered, feeling light-headed and soft, "my fever would spike high and fast, really fast, and then I'd be okay by morning."

"So this isn't anything to worry about," he breathed, sounding like he was trying to convince himself by saying it aloud.

"You’re worried about me?" she asked. He moved his hand back to the canister, drawing a bit more of the scented wax from the plastic and rubbing it gently into her skin instead of answering right away. Elodie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, loving the smell, loving that this would be the memory imprinted onto her every time she smelled it from then on.

"What a silly question," he said gently when he finally pulled his hand away.

She expended what felt like the last of her energy on a sigh and a turn of her head as she watched Cullen get up and go into the master bathroom. For the second time that night, she heard the tap running and was presented with a glass of water.

"Sit up and drink," he ordered. Elodie lifted an arm for him to come to her aid, and he let out a little breath of a noise.

"That was a worried sound," she mumbled. He shook his head at her and sat beside her.

"I'm just shocked that you're letting me take care of you. Normally you're the one taking care of everyone else."

He slid a hand near her ribs and helped her sit up, and she clutched halfheartedly at her open shirt as she leaned forward to where Cullen was holding the water. With her other hand, she steadied his fingers and lifted the glass to her lips. She sipped at it, then made the mistake of making eye contact with him over the rim of the glass. He looked so focused, even through the slight redness at the corner of his eyes and the dark purple shadow underneath of them.

A sudden, sad thought interjected itself into her brain. Who would take care of him when he needed it? She moved to have him set the water down on the nightstand, her hand staying on his even as it left the cold glass.

"I don't want you getting sick, Cullen." She leaned back, but he followed her, staying within a few inches of her. She reached up, ghosting her fingers across his cheek and back into his curls, but the gesture was less a push than a pull. "You shouldn't get too close."

"I'll keep it in mind," he smiled, closing his eyes and bringing up his hand to cover hers for a brief moment before he pulled away, standing up and moving to the door. "Rest."

"Wait," Elodie bit out, not sure what incentive he'd have to stay. She glanced over at the nightstand. "You forgot the medicine."

"I made it for you," he smiled. "Keep it. If it works, you have more right on hand."

"I didn't say thank you," she continued, settling into the pillows and duvet, the aroma of floral drowsiness pushing her into sleep as the fever raged within her body.

"You don't have to."

"About your question before," she mumbled, her eyes falling shut without her permission. She shivered, barely aware she was talking and clutching the sheets. "When I actually got sick, my father used to sing to me. When I was little, before he died."

Silence at her admission filled the hotel room, and Elodie swallowed past an unfamiliar lump of pain in her throat, one she hadn’t felt in years. She hadn’t admitted that to anyone here, hadn’t talked about her family even when Cassandra had opened up in private about hers. She heard a shift of fabric, a sigh.

"I didn’t know, Elodie," Cullen said softly. "I’m sorry."

"Before that, he sang lullabies whenever I felt the least bit warm. That's all I remember. No mother. No siblings. No cure-all." She felt her throat constrict and she swallowed back the feeling of tears. "I don't want to be alone," she confessed, her voice small.

Cullen was back at her side in an instant, his hand ever so lightly settling onto her forehead. She sighed at the weight, its cool roughness bringing relief to the beginnings of a headache. She brought one of her own hands up to cover his, but it fell away after the briefest fluttering touch. She had no energy to keep it there.

"I won’t leave you. I’ll go get my laptop and come back. It'll only take a moment for me to grab it from the fourth floor. I can finish my work in the next room. Would that be an acceptable compromise?"

She nodded, her eyes still closed; partially because she was too tired to open them, partially because she didn't want to have to look Cullen in the eye while she begged. She couldn't tell if it was her fever causing a hallucination or if it really happened, but she imagined that Cullen replaced his hand with his lips for a brief moment. She drifted so immediately into sleep that part of her felt guilty for even asking him to stay, because she wouldn’t have been conscious anyway.

However, when she woke up in the middle of the night hours later and got up to use the restroom, she knew he'd kept his word. The light was still on at her desk in the other room to the suite, and right before she was about to get back in bed she decided to turn it off. When she came out of the bedroom, she could see that he was asleep in the armchair with his laptop on his knees.

Elodie moved carefully to him, trying her best not to wake him, and moved his laptop to the desk so that it wouldn't fall if he shifted in the night. The screen was dark, asleep, and she left it open as she set it up just in case it shut down upon closing. She looked down at her watch, saw that it was the early hours of the morning. She was exhausted, felt horrible, but the fever felt like it had broken sometime during the night at the least. Watching Cullen's chest gently rise and fall, she wished she could help him in some small way the way he'd helped her.

The best she could do was to silently pad into her bedroom and grab up one of her largest sweatshirts, one without a zipper. She laid it across his chest without a sound and clicked the light on the desk off. When she got back into bed and her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see his legs kick slowly out as he got more comfortable in the chair. Closing her eyes, she drifted immediately into sleep with the melody of lavender and honey mixing on her skin.


	11. Starbucks With The Writer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Straight back to work after being down and out... and she gives Cullen a hard time for not taking breaks. Tch.

“Americano for Barry?” the barista called out over the counter. With a heavy sigh, Varric stood up and held out a gloved hand.

“Thanks, Peaches,” the author grunted, and Elodie snickered into her fingers. The kid smiled brightly and went back to the register, their hand running through their flowery pink hair, oblivious at the mispronunciation. Varric sat down next to Elodie in the corner as he brought out his tablet PC.

“You’d think that in a Starbucks attached to a bookstore, people would be more likely to recognize a name like yours,” Elodie commented over her almond milk latte.

“Ah, go easy on ‘em, they’ve probably got a lot on their mind,” he chuckled.

“You have a display in the back, Varric. You did a signing here for charity like… four months ago. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Yeah well, what can you do? My stylist took the day off, so I’m basically incognito.” He tapped a few things into the tablet and turned it to face Elodie. “Here’s what I was telling you about. I looked into some connections I still had over in Kirkwall, they provided some updated maps to our Cloud.”

“What are the yellow exclamation marks?”

“Houses to be watched under community guidelines,” Varric said, shrugging a bit as he waved his hand. “Sometimes it’s because the family has offered their place for some refugees or ex-gang members. Sometimes it’s because an insurgent that’s been caught in the area. It’s hard to tell what it’s for until we check it out and can update the maps ourselves.”

“These are suburban neighborhoods,” Elodie said, frowning.

“Yeah,” he sighed deeply. “Kids there, too.”

“Fuck.”

“Mmm,” he grunted in agreement, letting the heaviness of the situation fall over them as the coffeeshop bustled behind them with clinks of plates and the hiss of steamed milk. “I vote we go in discrete and sweet, if we can.”

“Rules out taking most of our team that way, doesn’t it?” she teased gently.

“You included,” Varric said, and Elodie couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

"I'll talk to Leliana about a plan of attack. I'm sure she'll have some advice."

"That'd be good," Varric agreed, sitting back in his chair.

“What are the red dots?” Elodie asked, hoping it wasn’t anything more serious.

“Oh, Buttercup put those on for us,” Varric said, his rough voice lightening. “She’s got a few favors she called in for when we next explore the Jader shopping mall. Some hoity-toity restaurant managers apparently skimmed the til in this one,” he pointed to a red dot to the left of Elodie’s favorite accessory shop. “You’ve got a cleaning service who’s been tracking down domestic abuse claims here,” another dot, this time close to where the now-defunct police station normally was. “And over here you’ve got a… uh… damn, what was it? It was something to do with a no-kill shelter her friends are trying to help out. I can’t remember. Anyway, I vote we check these places out, see how we can lend our clout to the causes.”

“They seem legit,” Elodie nodded, taking another long drink from her latte.

She glanced up at the pink-haired barista who was placing several scones on a plate to be heated up before giving to the customer.

“So I know it’s sudden,” she blurted, “but will you go with me to the Winter Palace event next week?”

Varric set his coffee down slowly.

“You still feeling up to that?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “Just a couple of days ago you were holed up in your bedroom nursing ginger ale. You still look a bit gaunt, not to be an ass or anything.”

“I’ve got to go to it whether I’m up to it or not,” Elodie said, biting the corner of her lip. “But I also really want to, at the same time. It’s so fancy, I’d never be allowed to set foot there otherwise.”

“Ah c’mon now-”

“Varric,” she stopped him, twisting the cardboad sleeve around her cup as she avoided his eyes, “you forget that I’m Dalish sometimes.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I don’t.”

She looked up and saw how he had his analytical smile on; she couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Toffee, you’re the best representation for our ragtag team of peacekeepers that I could have never written, you know that? You being an elf, a Dalish elf to boot, is a facet to you that can’t just be swept under the rug.”

“Even if I’m not a very good Dalish elf?” she muttered, picking at where they had misspelled her name on the side of the cup. Melanie, it read. She resisted the urge to shake her head.

“You are who you are, and I, for one, respect that."

"Thanks," she said, not meaning for it to come out so flat.

"Hey," Varric said, trying to catch her eyes.

Elodie looked up through her bangs at him, trying not to let him see how this simple phrase had shaken her. It was sudden, maybe too sudden, to feel sensitive about. And yet, Varric seemed to understand.

"No matter what others see you as, a symbol, a prophet, a phony, or a saint,” Varric said, making her scoff and glance down once more.

He paused, and she raised her eyes back to his as he lowered his voice.

“I damn sure wouldn't write you any other way.”

Elodie wasn’t sure how to respond. His point driven home successfully, Varric winked at her and brought up his espresso and water to take a long swig. Once he swallowed, he raised his cup as if toasting her.

“Here’s to being not-very-good, Toffee.”

She brought up her own drink, tapping the plastic rim against her friend’s, then they both drank a sip before turning back to the map and task at hand.

“Just so you know,” Elodie said, side-eyeing the dwarf playfully, “it’s almost unfair how you can make me feel better with just a few phrases.”

“Give me time, I’ll say something offensive in a minute,” he laughed. She smiled at the computer screen, taking notes in a little booklet she kept inside her leather jacket on what she’d go looking for next. “I’ll go with you, you know,” he said quietly.

She looked up, happily surprised, but before she could speak he narrowed his eyes at her.

“If you leave me alone with a pack of nobles who only know me from my failed romance novels, though, I’ll write a caricature of you into my next one.”

“I promise to drag you around with me whenever I get a chance,” Elodie said behind a burst of laughter. “Although you might want to rethink your threat, there. You’d be cutting off your nose to spite your face.”

“How do you figure?”

“You’d be hard pressed to write a decent love interest for me though, I’d wager,” Elodie said. “Don’t romance novels need those?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Varric purred. “I think I’ve got an idea or two.”

“Yeah?” she smirked, scrolling through the maps Varric’s contact had procured and only half listening. “Let’s hear it.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, pretending to think. “It would have to be someone with honor, of course, like all great romantic heroes have. Maybe a brunette or a redhead?”

Elodie laughed, and Varric’s voice took on a conspiratiorial tone.

“Someone from Ferelden, I think.”

Elodie forced herself not to look up at him as her heart flipped over in her chest.

Varric seemed to know anyway, and he kept on.

“I’d write you with someone confident enough to lead, but grounded enough to know he’s got issues to work on within himself. A good guy.”

Elodie cleared her throat, and Varric laughed boisterously.

“I’m yanking your chain, Inquisitor,” he insisted. “I won’t write that.”

He paused as he brought his espresso up to his lips.

“Probably,” he muttered.

Instead of correcting him on any of it, Elodie scribbled out the illegible words she’d scrawled while listening to Varric muse.

“I’m starting a new list,” she said a tad too loud, turning to him with bright eyes and a caustic smirk. “It’ll be called, ‘things Varric knows entirely too much about’, and it’ll be lengthy.”

“Ha! You don’t know the half of it. I never told you the story of the time my brother Bartrand and I found this series of abandoned subway tunnels to explore."

"No, you didn't." Elodie narrowed her eyes. "Is this a Hawke story?"

"Yeah. And believe you me, after that… it almost feels like I know too much,” he shuddered in an over-exaggerated way and Elodie beamed at his flair for storytelling even in their everyday conversations.

"Not good, eh?"

“Gives you nightmares for a week, seeing the way the old world was. I mean, I assume it does, anyway, if you dream and all.”

“Well... all joking aside, I’m glad you’re okay going to Halamshiral,” she said resolutely. “It won’t be half as scary as all that with you around.”

“Wanna bet?” Varric snarked. “You say you haven’t been to an Orlesian club before…”

“We can handle it,” Elodie said, implying that there was no other choice but to do so. “I’ll buy you a drink as a thank you no matter what happens.”

“Throw in a writ about me not having to dance with anyone, and it’ll be the perfect soiree,” Varric bargained.

Elodie nodded, almost wishing she could plead her own case that way. She sighed, distracted, and turned back to her original list.


	12. Ice Cream Helps

It was strange, being in the war room with only Leliana and Josephine. It felt... haunted somehow. Elodie shook her head, her ponytail flicking her neck, to try to clear her head of the image. There was no ghost; it was just emptier than usual. Cullen, normally the first one there, had been called away that morning by an old coworker, a man named Rylen who Cullen had worked with in Kirkwall. He'd gone to pick Rylen up at the airport immediately upon receiving his call, and according to Leliana the two men were now waiting on Rylen's luggage.

Cullen knew his limits, and most likely had insisted on going himself to ask Rylen about gritty details in person. Leliana had offered to send some of her agents to escort the man back in Cullen's stead, but nobody could dissuade the Commander from grabbing his keys and going himself. And Elodie hadn't wanted to. He hardly insisted on such endeavors, was almost always content to stay back at Skyhold and work from a defensive position. Cullen must have had his reasons for getting Rylen himself. Elodie had wished him good luck and sent him on his way before the sun had even come up.

The reason that Rylen was coming back to Skyhold so suddenly was because of an unexpected mission arising that required an experienced military leader. An old air base hangar had collapsed while the Inquisition was in the process of breaking it down, and it had revealed a smuggling tunnel in the sewers that led them to a forgotten lyrium lab. Nasty stuff, hell of a clean up, and Cullen had insisted on overseeing it all, including personal airport retrieval of the Knight-Captain he wanted to station there.

"I think we're finished for now," Leliana said, gathering up blueprints and blown-up photos. Elodie nodded, reaching for the notepad Josephine was handing her as all three of them moved towards the door. "But, Inquisitor?"

"Yeah."

"If you had wanted to go and meet Rylen at the airport with the Commander, you could have," Leliana said.

Elodie frowned at her friend, not understanding.

"We could have emailed you all of this quite easily, had you accompanied him."

"No, it's alright," Elodie replied, trying to keep herself from looking suspicious. "Cullen didn't need me tagging along last minute. It's supposed to be a short trip, he'll be back sometime tomorrow morning."

"Ah. Well, if you feel that way, I suppose it can't be helped..." Leliana said, trailing off purposefully.

Elodie pursed her lips together, determined not to rise to the bait.

"Are you feeling okay today?" Josephine asked, a merciful distraction. "Better?"

"Yes. Did Cullen give you his miracle cure for the common cold?"

Elodie glared at Leliana, positive that she meant that as dirty as it sounded. The redhead, however, did nothing but smile.

"He did, actually," Elodie replied, grinning back at Leliana sarcastically, "and it's done wonders."

"I never would have pegged Cullen as someone who's into home remedies," Josephine mused.

"Please," Leliana muttered. "The Commander, going to the clinic over a cough? That might require using a sick day."

"True," Josephine agreed. She turned back to Elodie. "How's your voice been? You already sound much better than you did yesterday."

"I don't exactly have full range back, but I'm not coughing so hard I can't sleep. I'd say that's improvement."

"That sounds miserable," Josephine said, glossing over the pointed, playful glares the other two were shooting towards each other. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. Is there anything we can get you?"

"Nah. I might go get myself some ice cream, but the aromatherapy Cullen left with me has really been doing the trick for helping me sleep."

It wasn't a lie. Elodie used it each night, the supply dwindling, underneath of her unbuttoned flannel. It helped soothe her into quiet rest, but it was a reminder each time she used it that she hadn't spoken to Cullen alone since she'd covered him with her sweatshirt in the middle of the night. Cullen's phone number sat in her call log way back several weeks, back when she'd sung lullabies for him.

"I knew a guy who broke a rib from coughing so hard," Leliana said, interrupting Elodie's mental circles. Her eyes widened, but when she looked to Josephine, the Antivan looked just as shocked. Leliana shouldered her backpack and she shot Elodie and Josephine both a look of innocence. "What? It's true, I did."

"I believe you," Elodie said. "But why-"

"Don't be afraid to ask us for a little cough syrup, is all I'm saying," Leliana recovered, shrugging to herself as she turned off the rest of the lights in the war room. 

* * *

 

Down in the kitchens, sneaking past a few troops on their way to the range, Elodie managed to find a carton half-full of vanilla ice cream in one of the lower freezers. She got herself a bowl, took a bite, and decided it was missing something. Something sweet. Maybe chocolate sauce... or maple syrup... no! Honey. They had a jar somewhere, she'd seen Cullen put it in his thermos of tea this morning before he left for the airport.

But where did he put it?

Elodie set to searching, determinedly shifting contents in the various pantries of the kitchens as she became absorbed in the hunt. After several minutes of shuffling through soup cans, dried beans, and packages of cereal, Elodie finally recalled that she'd seen Cullen putting it up somewhere high. Opening the cabinet to the right of the sink, she could see a telltale golden glimmer.

Excellent. Elodie started to stretch, higher, higher-

"My dear, how are we feeling?" Vivienne asked from across the table, making Elodie jump.

For a moment, she stayed there frozen, her arm outstretched to the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet to try to reach the honey. She felt absurdly as if she'd been caught trying to get into the cookie jar. Suppressing the urge to apologize, Elodie cleared her throat.

"Good. I'm good," she answered, tugging her tshirt down as she righted herself and turned to face Vivienne. She started to clean the counter of her mess while the Orlesian enchantress got a mug out of a separate cupboard. In what she hoped was a very stealthy move, Elodie kicked the freezer door open behind her and dropped the closed ice cream carton into its chilled gullet. It was all one fluid motion, one Vivienne hopefully didn't see as she checked that her mug was clean.

"Eating more than sweets for dinner, I hope?"

Damn. Not as stealthy as she thought she was.

"Oh that. Yeah. I had dinner already," Elodie lied, glancing away.

"You need to eat well to keep recovering your strength, dear. You can't fuel your body with sugar-trash."

Elodie made a face down at her bowl of ice cream when Vivienne was turned away, but when her friend moved to face her Elodie sighed.

"I do feel much better. Trust me. This is just for my scratchy throat."

"Well, then I'm glad to hear it." Vivienne paused, smiling over at Elodie. "I had half a mind to alert my personal physician, for a moment. And I would have, had you not broken that fever so quickly."

"You would have done that for me?"

"Of course, my dear." She got out a berry blend of tea, then moved over to the electric kettle. Vivienne paused, as if she were hesitating, then said quietly, "You never know when something that looks like the common cold turns out to be so much more. I wouldn't want to take a chance like that with you, so naturally, I was worried."

Elodie tried to find something to say as Vivienne poured herself some steaming water to drown her herbal tea in. Elodie had thanked Vivienne when she'd insisted Elodie stop working and rest, had thanked her when she'd allocated Elodie's responsibilities to eager and competent interns, and had thanked her this morning when she'd given Elodie a miniature care package of mini-hand-sanitizers. Even if it could lean towards the passive-aggressive, Elodie had never had someone care for her in the way Vivienne tended to. Saying thank you didn't feel like enough.

Vivienne took her teabag from her mug, daintily wrapping the thread around the spoon. She pressed a manicured fingernail to the bag in order to wring out the last drop of tea, and then she set it aside.

"Don't stare with your mouth agape, darling, you're going to catch flies."

"I..." Elodie closed her lips into a wry smile. "You're right. And Vivienne," the woman flicked a glance up at Elodie. "Thank you."

"Nonsense, my dear. It is not an inconvenience, for me to care about your wellbeing." She raised her tea to her lips, grimacing a bit. "Now as for caring about the bunch of well-meaning hooligans you tend to surround yourself with..."

Elodie smirked. There was the Vivienne she was used to.

When Vivienne moved to put the tea bags away, Elodie went back to reaching up for the honey, practically hopping up on the counter to do so. Just barely out of reach. Damn, why did she have to be so short? Why did Cullen have to put good things on such high shelves? Why didn't she just use a chair as a step stool?

Elodie coiled up, fully prepared to scale the cabinet like a cliff face, but before she could a large hand caught her shoulder.

"Need me to get somethin' for you, Boss?" the Iron Bull asked, rounding the corner and reaching up before Elodie could say yes or no.

"That jar, please."

He set the honey down in front of her on the counter, flexing a bit unnecessarily as he did so. Elodie rolled her eyes, trying not to seem impressed despite herself.

"Thank you Bull."

"No problemo. Wouldn't want your ice cream to melt anymore than it has, now would we?" he asked, his voice glazed with a promise Elodie wasn't sure she understood. She was about to ask what he meant, if he was trying to make some sort of double entendre, but then Bull glanced behind her. He caught sight of Vivienne and his demeanor instantly changed. "Oh, didn't see you there, ma'am. How are you this evening?"

"Quite well, thank you, darling," Vivienne replied, breezing out of the room with her mug of tea. As soon as she left, Bull's shoulders slumped.

"Phew. Dodged that one."

"Dodged... what now?" Elodie asked.

"You know," Bull gave her a twisted smile, moving over to the refrigerators lined up in a row at the back of the kitchens. His hand on the door, he paused. "Viv."

"Have you been avoiding her?"

"Well, no. Not exactly." Bull opened up the fridge, taking out a bag of pre-sliced ham, mustard, a head of lettuce, and some cheese. He shut the door with his hip as he moved back to where Elodie was now sitting on the counter, spooning honey over her vanilla ice cream.

"You'd think a spy would be a more convincing liar."

"You aren't convinced?" he asked, smirking lazily.

"Bull."

"Okay, last time she caught me in Skyhold, she had me gathering the Chargers to go carpet-cleaner shopping. It was boring as fuck and I want to avoid cleaning anything else while I'm here."

"You're joking," Elodie sputtered, giggling as she closed the jar of honey and moved to put it back. Before she could straighten high enough, Bull caught it and placed it up on the shelf.

"Nah," he grabbed bread from the cabinet and began to make a sandwich. "But y'know, I'm never going to say no to her. She gets this way about things, like Skyhold or our daggers, because she cares..."

Elodie raised an eyebrow.

"You know she does, in her way. Gotta respect that."

"I guess."

"No," he paused, mustard uncapped and pointed as a warning in Elodie's face. "I'm saying you gotta. Don't wanna make someone as strong as Madame de Fer mad."

"Are you..." Elodie lowered her voice into a teasing, secretive whisper. "Are you scared of Vivienne?"

"Having a healthy respect for what she, Solas, and Dorian do with corrupted AI does not mean I fear them, Inquisitor," the Iron Bull replied, tearing off a few leaves of lettuce.

Elodie chuckled, wondering how tall his sandwich was going to be when he finished.

"Fair enough."

"How about you, though?" Bull asked, glancing over at Elodie as she kicked her feet and shoved another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"Vivienne doesn't scare me," Elodie giggled.

"No," Bull squinted at her. "I mean, what are you doing, sitting here, eating ice cream for dinner?"

"Man, you too? I just wanted a dessert, that's-"

"No," Bull chuckled, holding up a hand. "Not what I meant. Eat whatever you like, whenever you like." He gestured to his pile of sandwich fixings, and Elodie relaxed. He looked back to the ham, as though freeing Elodie from his stare, and added, "Just thought you'd be off with Cullen to get Rylen all settled, not sitting here waiting for him to come back."

"W-why would you think that?" Elodie asked, almost drooling vanilla out of the corner of her mouth in surprise. Bull glanced over at her.

"Usually you leave and he waits. How does the opposite feel?"

"I dunno." She shrugged. "Normal?"

"Huh. Interesting. Thought you'd want to be with him."

"I... don't know what you mean. With him like how?" Elodie swallowed another spoonful of ice cream, trying to chill her mouth into not blurting anymore nonsense. Bull looked unconvinced.

"Oh, so we're not gonna mention how Cullen spent last week in your room, eh?"

"It was not a _week_ ," Elodie protested. "It was one night."

"I know," Bull replied, eyes narrowing as if he'd caught her. Elodie set her bowl down on her knee, slouching a bit as she tried not to look ruffled.

"He... had to go by himself today. I have work to do here."

"Nothing you couldn't have taken care of on the road."

"He didn't ask me."

"Did you want him to?"

"I mean," Elodie swirled her spoon in the ice cream, the honey making golden tracks through its sweetness. "I wouldn't have said no."

"There we go," Bull said, placing half of the bag of ham on his sandwich and then covering it with more mustard. On top of that, he placed a single slice of cheese. "You doing okay?"

"I haven't been sick for like, three days now."

"Not what I meant, Boss."

Elodie paused, spoonful of sweetness halfway to her mouth. She could ignore Bull obtusely in this moment, she knew. Or she could admit out loud what she had been mulling over ever since Cullen had started to call her by her first name.

She watched her Qunari friend squish his sandwich down with one huge palm and then start to put ingredients away. He was going to leave if she didn't answer, she knew. Right as Bull grabbed his plate to walk past her, Elodie touched a hand to his shoulder.

"I... do you think..."

"Yes?" Bull drawled. Elodie set her bowl of ice cream to the side.

"Did Cullen..." _say anything to you_ , she wanted to ask. But she was embarrassed, feeling foolish and childish, especially with the lingering taste of syrupy dessert on her tongue.

The Iron Bull seemed to know anyway, even without Elodie finding a good way to phrase it. He nodded at her, looking pleased with himself.

"He texted me when he first got to the airport," Bull said, lowering his voice. "Asked me if you were okay."

"Just out of the blue, just like that?" Elodie could feel how wide her eyes were, her shock too great to be concealed. Bull nodded. "But... no offense, but he asked you? Not Cassandra? Or Dorian?"

"He must have seen those snaps you took of me earlier today, back when we were watching Sera trying to shout her way through that horror game."

"I didn't think I sent you those snaps."

"You didn't. Still know you took them." Bull took a bite of his sandwich. "Might be a bad liar, but I'm a good spy, Boss," he said around a mouthful of ham and lettuce. Elodie let out a breath, dragging her curls away from her forehead.

Bull gave her a playful tap on the shoulder, a little _hang in there kid_  punch between friends, and made like he was going to leave. Right as Elodie grabbed her spoon again, he turned back to the kitchen.

"I asked him why he cared," the Iron Bull said nonchalantly. "I hope you don't mind."

Elodie exhaled, shook her head.

"He didn't answer me, though. Might wanna check up on him, make sure he's not pacing himself into a stupor before getting behind the wheel of a car, y'know?"

"Oh. Yeah, I can ah... I'll do that," Elodie promised. She grinned at Bull. "Thanks for telling me, Bull. And for not judging the uh..." she lifted her bowl at him. "Dinner."

"Anytime," he said with a grin, winking his singular eye... or blinking... it was hard to tell. He left with a wave behind his shoulder as Elodie scraped the last of her ice cream from the bowl.

* * *

 

_El'assan 10:11pm_

**_Are you staying the night by the airport?_ **

She didn't know why she texted Cullen that. She was in her bedroom, feeling very close to pacing as she imagined Cullen waiting in a crowded airport luggage terminal, trying to gather suitcases onto a large rolling cart. She couldn't really think of anything else to say, had nothing to update him on or ask him about, but she had wanted to text him all the same.

Cullen didn't read it immediately, which just set Elodie on edge and furthered the sense that this had been a dumb idea. She threw her phone onto the pillow and turned on the TV, trying to force herself to stretch in front of the Discovery Channel while ignoring the lack of a response.

Her phone wasn't face down, however, and so she immediately saw when it blipped green. A text back. Elodie practically pounced the little device, bouncing on her bed as she clicked it open with her fingerprint.

_C_Rutherford 10:23pm_

**_No. We just got Rylen's bags. I'm going to drive as long as I can stand to, and hopefully be back at Skyhold by daybreak._ **

Elodie smiled at the thought. She blinked, trying to figure out what to say to that.

_El'assan 10:23pm_

**_Please drive safe, and stop if you need to. I don't like the idea of you driving sleepy._ **

Oh yeah. Not desperate at all, texting back immediately. Elodie groaned, shutting her eyes as it showed Cullen had read her text. She didn't have to wait very long this time for his reply, which was a small blessing.

_C_Rutherford 10:24pm_

**_Don't worry about me, Elodie. Make sure you're getting your rest._ **

She put the phone down, torn between teasing Cullen, thanking him, and telling him that getting rest without him at Skyhold was difficult, nigh near impossible. She had rested easiest when he was sitting beside her, just in the next room, the light on as he slumped comfortably in her armchair with her sweatshirt over his chest.

She couldn't say that, though.

The boundaries ever since that night had been so blurred, difficult to navigate. Cullen had sent her snaps since then. Granted, they were just pictures of a dog that had wandered onto the Skyhold parking lot. Then there had been videos of Krem arguing with Grim over who got to keep it while the dog rested its head on Cullen's lap. Besides that, the only interaction they had was around others. Cullen had texted the groupchat to say that he had information on the downed hangar, or to ask Leliana about her agents' reports. They had even been in the war room together at the same time once since she'd been sick. That had been nice. He'd told Elodie that he was glad to see her up and moving, and she'd smiled. But then they'd had to move on to work talk, leaving behind any opportunity for her to ask if they were okay.

And the problem wasn't that Cullen was harsh. He wasn't; he was so incredibly _the same_ that Elodie couldn't track him. Every interaction they'd had since Elodie had asked him to trace scented oil down her bare sternum had been kind, polite, and a touch distant. Even now, even when he used her first name, she couldn't tell if things had changed between them.

In the end, she didn't reply. She justified it by telling herself she couldn't bear to distract him while he was on the road, didn't want him to even think about texting and driving. But if she were being totally honest, a small part of her feared that maybe everything that Cullen might need to hear from her had already been said. She went to sleep with her phone across the room, plugged into the wall to charge, face down on the table... and the light turned on in the other room.


	13. What If You Could Kick Emotions Into Submission?

Usually the music in the gym was a combination of top 40 hits, or ambient rock, depending on who was watching the front desk. The Inquisition taking over the remnants of the Skyhold hotel and renovating it meant that the indoor pool and the extensive gym area had also gotten a makeover. Even though a couple of the showers had to be converted into indoor gardens because of the damage and subsequent nature take-over, most of their facilities were in working order and rather modern.

Josephine had seen fit to hire local students from the university to intern at several of the Inquisition day-jobs, and front desk to the gym had three regulars. Two of them liked to sit and read or study when things were slow, and one of them was always on the computer chatting during their shift- all three of them had different music styles they liked to play.

Adjusting her duffel over her shoulder as Cassandra rolled up her sleeves to sign in, Elodie was pleased to note that the person at the desk was the one that played pop music. She smiled and took the pen from Cassandra, writing her name near the bottom of the page.

“Busy tonight,” she commented, glancing up the printed spreadsheet to see who all was there.

“Pray they are not all coming to my class,” Cassandra said with a gentle eye roll. “There will be no space for kicking.”

“Don’t worry,” Elodie mumbled, skimming over a few of the new recruits’ almost illegible Orlesian scrawls. “I think with a name like ‘advanced techniques in close quarter combat’ you’re only going to get a few of us.”

“Be sure to stand up front so that people can watch your technique, and in case I need a model,” Cassandra said, reshouldering her own pack. Elodie nodded, frozen. “What? What’s wrong?”

Cullen’s name was on the roster, just above Rylen’s and Dorian’s. The three men had only signed in five minutes prior. Elodie's heart immediately sank. She had been hoping to go and see the Commander after he got back with Rylen yesterday morning, but she hadn’t had time. One thing led to another, and she found herself thinking to text Cullen at odd hours and never really having the gall to follow through with it. And so she still didn't know where she stood in his eyes. If she stood there at all, even.

A week had passed since Cullen had traced his knuckle down the bare skin of her sternum, and they had barely spoken. The things she'd said to him when they were alone... the longing he'd confessed to...

“Elodie!”

“Huh?” she snapped to attention just as Cassandra put her hand to Elodie’s forehead.

“If you’re not fully recovered you shouldn’t be trying to kickbox,” Cassandra chided, and Elodie ducked out from under her wrist.

“I’m fine,” she argued back, her cheeks warming under the Seeker's scrutiny. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late.”

Cassandra made a noise of annoyance and they moved back to the locker rooms with a faint nod to the receptionist. Elodie tried to steady her hands. There was no reason to be nervous, and most likely with her being up at the front she wouldn’t even notice the Commander.

But he would notice her.

She slammed the locker shut a bit too harshly, making Cassandra flinch and reach for where her holster normally sat by her ribs. The Seeker clenched her jaw and finished tightening her braid before shutting the door to her own locker. Elodie pulled her hair back into a high ponytail, the tips of her ears catching slightly in the curls as she avoided Cassandra’s suspicious glare.

“I’m going to go change the music,” Cassandra said, and Elodie pouted.

“What? Why?” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t like pop?”

“I’ll meet you out there.”

“Cass-”

But Cassandra was already gone, leaving Elodie sitting alone on the bench with the faint sound of showers and hair dryers going in the background.

Fine. If that was how it was, she could work out to whatever heavy metal Cassandra chose. A bit stung, Elodie began to wrap her knuckles, weaving in and out with the tape to get them ready for class.

A few Templars walked in, nodding to her in hello, and Elodie felt herself growing more anxious the longer she sat. Paying close attention to the pinky finger she'd jammed last class, Elodie finished up and flexed her hands experimentally. Everything was good. She was good. She grabbed her Nalgene and stood up, determined to go out there and enjoy herself.

It was her first workout session since she’d gotten sick, and she felt like she needed it before the Halamshiral night out. Walking out, from the corner of her eye she could see all movement still when she walked past. She ignored it and went to go stretch by the mirror.

Breathing deeply, keeping her eyes focused on her form in the mirror, Elodie began to push and pull her muscles into place. She warmed them with slow, deliberate grabs, making sure that they would move for her the way she needed once Cassandra started to kick her ass. She closed her eyes, getting into the sensation of rolling her body into motion once more, and was about to bend over to fold herself in half and touch the floor when she felt hands on either sides of her ribs.

She jumped at first, but then saw dark skin and darker hair in the mirror.

“You’re either brave or stupid,” she accused, placing her hands over Dorian’s as she turned in his arms to look back at him. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, your Worship.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Stop being so damn righteous and I just might consider it,” he teased, squeezing her ribs gently and then moving away to mimic her stretches alongside her.

"I've missed you," Elodie said, even as she squinted at him in mock anger.

"And I you," Dorian replied. "Don't get sick again for a long while now, it was frightfully boring without you replying to my snap story."

"Poor baby."

“Are you here for Cassandra’s class, or are you going to just watch yourself dance in the mirror all night?”

“I wasn’t dancing,” she blurted, nervous laughter at the edge of her voice. “I was stretching.”

“From where the Commander and I were sitting, it looked very much like dancing,” Dorian purred.

Elodie turned, mouth opening to say something in protest, but she realized she didn’t know what to argue. Instead, she growled under her breath and bent over to touch the floor, walking her hands back and through her legs to give her hips and calves a long, gentle pull. If she blushed, people would just assume the redness of her skin was from hanging upside down.

“Oh my,” Dorian cooed. “Aren’t we flexible?”

“We are distracting,” she grunted, eyes screwed shut.

“Yes we are,” he agreed.

“Dorian.”

It was breathless, begging her friend to stop. She was lucky that the blood was rushing to her head like this, covering the blush that she could feel creeping up her neck even now. She straightened up and turned to face him with an exasperated glare.

“Is there a reason you’re spoiling me with so much attention before class starts?”

“Sorry. I'm not so much spoiling you as _dangling_ you,” he said, and he pulled his arm in the feint of a stretch in order to get her to look backwards to where he’d come from.

Elodie swiveled side to side and used the turn as an opportunity to look. Behind them, back beyond the punching bags being set up by five of the burlier soldiers in the class, Cullen was speaking to Rylen.

She immediately glanced away, nervous to be caught staring, but Dorian gave her a look. Elodie narrowed her eyes and glanced back, her eyes lingering just a second longer than they had before.

Cullen looked well. Impeccable posture, as usual. Elodie drank in the way his hair glinted in the dull overhead light, even if it was just for a moment. He looked as if he were very preoccupied in _not_ looking to the front of the class where Elodie stood.

He was wearing a loose gray shirt with no logo, most likely from a pack containing seven more of the exact same. He had black basketball shorts slung low on his hips, his calves bare, revealing cut muscles she otherwise never got to see. And his hands were fidgeting, curled up into fists even though class had yet to start.

Turning back after her tiny peek, Elodie made eye contact with Dorian in the mirror and could barely hide an appreciative smirk.

“I know, right?” he murmured. “Rylen’s wearing his track shorts.”

Elodie scoffed.

“Who knew they made shorts that… well, short,” Dorian continued. “Where does one draw the line between a garment being shorts, or just another layer of underwear?”

“I didn’t notice,” she confessed in a low hum. “I was a bit distracted.”

Dorian winked at her in the mirror, twirling his mustache like the villain he was. The music stopped, silence pounding out of the speakers and signaling that the class was about to start. Cassandra strode out, a thick redwine sports bra peeking out from underneath of her layered gray and black tank tops. She was wearing tight yoga pants, charcoal, the same brand as Elodie’s black ones, but she had tied a jacket low around her hips that floated after her like a skirt.

Music began to play, but was not the Seeker’s usual choice of heavy guitar and screaming. This was melodic, high tempo, like something straight out of a dance club. Elodie’s eyes got wide and she made eye contact with Dorian desperately in the mirror as he chose a punching bag near her.

He smirked; he recognized the song too.

Behind her, Elodie saw the men and women who’d moved the punching bags out begin to choose their spots as Cassandra taped up her hands. Cullen and Rylen were near the back, motioning for Lysette and a few of the Chargers to get in with the rest of the class where the new people could see their form. While Elodie just happened to be looking back at the new recruits, Cullen glanced up at her. Elodie suppressed a startled gasp.

To be fair, they both seemed shocked at the eye contact, momentarily stopping what they were doing. Meekly, Cullen raised a hand in a wave. Elodie smiled. She couldn’t help it.

How could someone be so physically imposing and yet so cute at the same time?

She could see Cullen’s chest dip as he exhaled, like he was surprised to see the expression. The idea that maybe, just maybe, he was thinking something similar about her threatened to make Elodie blush.

She turned back to the mirror when she saw him flick his gaze away to the punching bag, his fingers brushing off some grit from its tanned red surface. She bit her lip, feeling giddy and anxious, as the music positively grew to a glow about them.

“Alright everyone, for warmups we are going to start with five sets of crisscross jumping jacks,” Cassandra shouted over the beat. Elodie could feel herself responding to the energy of the electronica, feel her hips moving without her permission as the beat climbed closer to the drop.

Elodie not only knew this song, she loved it. It was part of her running mix. It started out very slow, built up to a huge crashing crescendo, and kept a high BPM that she used to set her cadence in a jog. It made Elodie want to do a lap around the room.

Cassandra looked at her knowingly, a cat-like smile on her lips. She’d done it on purpose, the sneak. Elodie grinned back at her and took up the position beside her punching bag, starting the set of jumps.

“No slacking,” the Seeker said as she did the same, watching everyone behind her in the mirror.

The beat rose, and the music combined with the thrum of power in her recently weakened body made Elodie want to groan in pleasure. She couldn’t wait to hit things, to get thrown around. She needed it. She tried to pace herself, remembering that Cassandra made you sweat before she got down to the nitty-gritty of the class, but it was so difficult when the rush of blood in her veins made her feel so alive.

After a set of knee-ups, a set of split squat jumps, and a small set of burpees, Elodie was too hot. It was too reminiscent of the fever for her taste, being layered up like this. Cassandra was shouting about form, counting them down on their last set, and Elodie chanced a look back at the clock.

It was almost time for a five minute water break. She could make it.

She dug deep, hearing cries from behind her as newer members of the class found out just how far Cassandra intended to push them. The song on now was almost at the climax, almost crested, and Elodie prayed it would reach just as she finished her set. If it did, the timing would be so perfect, the energy would feel positively incandescent—

Cassandra’s countdown combined with the drop so that she had perfectly orchestrated it to hit at the crescendo, and Elodie hit her last burpee with a cry of triumph as the song fractured into a more complex version of itself.

“Alright everyone walk it off, stay warm and get a sip of water,” Cassandra called, barely out of breath. “We’re moving on to the bags next.”

Elodie walked over to her Nalgene she’d set by the mirror and Cassandra went over to encourage one of the older volunteers, showing him some modifications for the next round of exercises.

Elodie unzipped her hooded sweatshirt and threw it down, but she was still too hot. She was sweating straight through her white tshirt, revealing the light blue, intricate sports bra beneath. It was her favorite: a beautiful series of knots and braids and elastic padding that kept everything secure and protected. She felt powerful in the Par Vollen brand, and so without another thought she shed her tshirt as well.

The slight breeze from the AC licked across the skin of her stomach, and Elodie bounced up and down experimentally. She gave a few fast jabs, damp tendrils of her ponytail flicking around and hitting at her chin. She huffed, taking her hair down in a yank. She couldn’t focus with it hitting her face like that.

“One minute, get back to your station,” Cassandra shouted. She leaned in to Elodie as the Inquisitor held her hairtie between her teeth and attempted to wrangle her mass of curls higher on her head. “Are you ready?”

“Bring it,” Elodie said through gritted teeth, and gave the Seeker a wink. Cassandra rolled her eyes as she smiled, walking out and clapping to signal everyone to pay attention to the front. Elodie managed to get her hair up higher on her head and into a bun, only a few loose tendrils hanging by her sweat-slicked neck. She bounced in place, keeping limber, as Cassandra gave directions.

“We’re going to practice a feint body blow into a punch to the head. We did it last month, but we’ve got a few new members. Inquisitor, would you care to demonstrate?”

“Happy to,” Elodie said, walking up and adopting a fighting stance in front of Cassandra. “Are you hitting or am I?”

“You are,” her friend said with flinted eyes, like she was daring her to try to really hit her.

Turning to the class, Cassandra began to point out fundamentals of Elodie’s fighting stance, pointing to different parts of her body as she did so. Elodie tried to keep still, but the music was climbing again, distracting her, and when she looked out into the crowd she couldn’t find Cullen.

Had he moved? Surely he hadn’t stopped yet?

The question made her feel even more on edge. Not only did she just want to hit something already, but she wanted Cullen to see her do it. He’d seen her at her most pathetic, his hand on her forehead as she moaned about not wanting to be left alone, and now she wanted to show him how hard she could knock back at such fragility.

“Let me know when to start,” Elodie said.

Cassandra pulled back, adopting a ready stance in front of her, and nodded. Elodie lashed out quickly, feinting at Cassandra’s body but then going for the side of her head when the Seeker blocked low. She pulled her punch just enough that she hit the air beside Cassandra’s ear, and the blow didn’t even glance off her skin. Cassandra gave a brusque nod of acknowledgment, and Elodie could not have been more eager to go full contact on the bag instead of demonstrating with her friend up front.

Cassandra was deliberately not blocking as she explained, trusting Elodie to pull her punches with expertise from practicing with her so often. She talked them through it briefly and then gave them a number of sets to do. Everyone set about working while Cassandra went to move around and check form.

Elodie moved over to her bag, practically bouncing up and down.

“Chill out, you bloodthirsty fiend,” Dorian said, beads of perspiration gleaming on his bare shoulders. His dark brown tank with silver lettering was hanging loose over his pecs, and Elodie shook her head at him.

“Keep up, why don’t you?”

“I’d try but I think your bag is down for the count already.”

Elodie chuckled, a throaty laugh, and flexed her hands.

“I wish tonight was a sparring night.”

“You really do need someone to throw you around a bit,” Dorian tsk-ed, and Elodie didn’t disagree. Had it been anyone other than him, she would have been offended, but the loving way he managed to say such a thing made her feel alive.

Plus, he wasn’t wrong.

They went back to their individual sets, working tirelessly side by side. With each punch that connected with the bag, Elodie felt more and more centered. When Cassandra called the next exercise, the Seeker called Dorian up to demonstrate with her instead. She moved quickly through a review, and then as the hour-long class wore down she introduced two new kicks to them.

Elodie didn’t mind being replaced. She was glad she didn’t have to pull anymore punches.

By the time they were on their last set, a few of the inexperienced ones had had to drop out. They were lingering around the edges, commenting on who was still holding strong in the front of the class. Dorian was still challenging Elodie as he beat into the bag at her side, and the other regulars in the class were keeping pace as best they could.

Chancing a look back, Elodie noticed that Cullen was holding the pace as well, tightly coiled like a spring with hits that echoed across the back wall. He was still at his same bag, must have been going to get water or stopping to catch his breath when Elodie had looked before. Lysette had moved to be back near the other former-Templar, and Cullen seemed to be encouraging her. Elodie swallowed hard.

Finishing her set, she glanced up at the clock. They had a few minutes left. They would finish the class with a few cooldown exercises. Boldness streaked through her veins, a kind of brazen courage that she hadn’t felt since before the Conclave church bombing.

She finished her set and took a swig of water as Cassandra invited everyone to fall back in for the cooldown. Lysette had to stop, Elodie could hear her give a laugh of admission and then ragged breathing while she walked out a stitch in her side.

Not that she was happy Lysette was hurting or anything, but Elodie did feel a small twinge of relief. It meant the spot beside Cullen was free once more.

While everyone wandered in to find a place, Elodie moved back and took her place by the former Templar. He looked over at her, his breathing heavy but even, a bead of sweat clinging to the tip of his nose. He roughly dragged a hand across his face, drawing the salty liquid away from where it probably stung a bit at his eyes. Elodie knew that’s what she hated, when she got too warm, but she almost wished he hadn’t gotten rid of it. He looked fantastically disheveled, and yet somehow still put together.

At least, not as undone as Elodie would like to see him.

“Commander,” Elodie acknowledged, taking her place beside him and beginning to bounce to cool down. Cullen stared at her, then laughed in dry disbelief.

“Inquisitor,” he said back. “You look like you’ve fully recovered your energy.”

“Were you worried?”

“When I saw you at the front? A bit."

Elodie nodded. It was a fair thought.

"I know my limits."

"You have to admit,” Cullen said, “the last time you called a war meeting, you still looked like you were recovering.”

“I’ve been feeling better lately, yeah,” she confessed, endorphins rushing through her in perfect harmony with the melody surrounding them. “And it helps that I really like this song.”

“Who’s it by?” he asked, stretching out towards her. She hated that she had to replicate the gesture on her end, effectively keeping her same distance from him the whole time as they pulled out the warmth from their muscles.

“It’s a remix,” she said over her shoulder, loving how his taut biceps pulled against his shirt. Glancing down at his chest as they turned simultaneously to stretch the other side, she finished, “I’m pretty sure it’s called Endless.”

“I gathered as much, from the chorus,” he said, teasing her. He turned from her, rolling his neck in the opposite direction. She took the opportunity to glance down at his hips, the curve of his ass.

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, then remembered his question. “It’s an Arston remix, I think, but I don’t know who did the original.”

“Arston,” he repeated as they stood back to standing straight. “I’ll have to remember that.”

They were both still slightly out of breath from the previous hour or so, and Cassandra put an end to the class with a signal to the front desk. The music cut off on cue.

“Alright everyone,” the Seeker said, drawing Cullen’s attention back to the front. Elodie was too distracted by the way sweat glimmered on the scar above his lip to look anywhere else. “Next week is a combination of that last kick we learned combined with another, so I will be here an hour early if any of you want to practice.” Elodie glanced up at Cassandra in time to see her squinting out at the new recruits. “I highly recommend that you do.”

A few replied, agreeing. Cassandra’s expression softened.

“Alright, get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow after breakfast for Commander Cullen’s raid simulation!”

Thank you’s chorused through the room as people went to shake Cassandra’s hand and ask her specific questions.

Cullen knelt to bring a small towel to the back of his neck, drawing it over and towards his face as he wiped the moisture from his eyes. On a whim, some gut instinct she was too jazzed to override, Elodie put out her hand and dragged her fingers through his sweaty curls.

She didn’t expect him to flinch so harshly, and instant regret coursed through her veins and deadened her limbs.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cullen,” she blurted as she pulled back her hand, “I should not have done that. I’m all hyped up from the-”

“No, please,” he stood to face her, looking disoriented and apologetic. “It’s not you.”

“But-”

“It’s really not,” Cullen stated firmly, giving a humorless laugh. “It’s me, I didn’t expect to be touched.”

“Right. But, see, that’s normal, that’s…” Elodie swallowed, feeling ashamed. “I'm sorry. I should have asked first.”

“It’s fine. Seriously, it’s fine if you touch me,” he reassured her. “It’s not that I _don’t_ want you to touch me.”

When she bit her lip to hide her nervous laughter he clenched his jaw shut and almost growled. Was he blushing or was that the workout?

“Maker’s breath.”

“Now I know,” she said, holding up both hands. “I’ll warn you from now on.”

“You-”

“Hey, I was thinking,” Elodie interjected, stepping away from him to kneel and retie her shoelace.

It wasn’t really untied, but she needed to do something with her hands instead of wringing them bashfully in front of her bare midriff. She heard Cullen sigh, his breath wavering and unsteady, and she gave him a moment longer to recover while she spoke.

“I have this Arston song that’s playing right now. Pretty sure Cassandra got all of these songs from my library, to be honest,” she muttered.

“I like it,” Cullen admitted quietly, twisting the top off of a plastic water bottle he’d gotten from the vending machine during one of the breaks. That must have been where he’d been before. Elodie could hear it click until the cap unsealed. “Not usually my thing, but I liked all of the songs she picked for tonight.”

“Do you want some?” she asked, straightening up and leveling him with her gaze.

“Some what?” he answered, the water bottle poised just before his lips.

Elodie snapped her mouth shut so that she wouldn’t say exactly what _she_ wanted some of.

“Some of my music,” she replied, her voice husky with her private thoughts.

He gave a little exhale, or maybe it was him still catching his breath from the class, and then cleared his throat. Elodie wondered if it was overstepping a boundary until he turned and smiled at her. When Cullen fixed her with that warmth, she felt like she could go ten more rounds under Cassandra’s tutelage. If only he could be by her side as she trained, she knew she’d push herself harder.

“I would love that,” Cullen said earnestly, his tone light. Elodie blinked, refocusing on the conversation at hand.

“What kind of music do you like?” she asked, standing to go and beckoning him to follow by talking to him over her shoulder. He trailed behind her, scratching gently behind his neck.

“I don’t know off the top of my head. I’m not picky.”

“What do you have on your playlist?” Elodie pried.

“Nothing. I don’t really have a vast selection to choose from at the moment. I left a lot of my music on my laptop, the one I lost back in Haven, and I’ve had a burner phone ever since then too.”

“Oh. I didn’t know, I’m sorry,” she murmured. He sighed and nodded. “That really sucks, Cullen.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “But what can you do?”

“I can give you my music,” she promised, “because I have way too much of it.”

“I’d be forever grateful,” he said with a grin.

“Unless you have something you’re fond of in particular, I’m just going to give you everything,” she said as she picked up her discarded tshirt from the floor and tugged it on. When she fit her head through the collar, she noticed he had averted his eyes until she was dressed. It was as if the act of dressing were more intimate to him than seeing her in a state of undress. Elodie smoothed her shirt down, trying to ignore how sweet a sentiment that was, and then picked up the zippered sweatshirt.

It was the one she’d worn when he’d tucked her in, but she hadn’t picked it on purpose. It was the first thing she’d grabbed. She had since washed it, but in that moment, Elodie wished that it still smelled slightly of honey.

“If you come up with any genres you’re into, just text me,” she added, enjoying the way Cullen glanced down at her lips when she spoke.

“I’m sure I’ll like anything you see fit to give me,” he said, but this time when she met his eyes with hers, he didn’t stutter out a curse or take back what he’d said.

He held her gaze steady with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, a challenge written in his dilated pupils. She gave a small chuckle, not sure if she was nervous, amused, or aroused. Maybe she was all at once.

“Only the best for you, Commander,” she promised, walking backwards as she talked, not wanting to break the spell of his gaze. He nodded his acceptance of the deal, practically beaming at her as she flirted back with him.

Elodie tucked a stray curl behind her ear and swiveled quickly so that she could go to the locker room to shower, because otherwise she would stand there and stare at him for the rest of the night. She heard him chuckle to himself and go back towards where he’d left Rylen, and she kept herself from running to the locker room with every last ounce of her remaining energy.

Once she was safely in the locker room, Elodie collapsed on the bench and suppressed a pleased little squeal. He’d talked to her. Alone. One on one. And it hadn’t been weird! Well, besides when she couldn’t control her grabby fingers, but even that had ended well! Sighing happily, Elodie stood up and moved on shaky legs to her locker.

She was undoing her bun and unfolding her clean change of clothes when it hit her. Commander Cullen had never once seen her looking presentable. He always saw her like this: messy, simple, relaxed. It was a big facet of who she was, and Elodie owned that, but she was hard pressed when there had been a time Cullen had seen another side to her.

In the War Room, it was usually late at night or very early morning, and always lit with unflattering overhead LEDs. On missions, Cullen stayed behind and waited, and Elodie always got back with the grime of roadtrips and rifts stuck beneath her fingernails. Somehow, his curls were always that perfect amount of tousled, his stubble that perfect length of barely unkempt.

Even when she sent him selfies through Snapchat, which was extremely rare and hadn’t happened since before she’d sung to him in the Hinterlands, she was… kind of scrub, if she was being honest. Unkempt, but not the perfect amount. The legitimately-uncaring amount.

Elodie went cold, simultaneously excited and terrified at the prospect of him seeing her dressed up for the Winter Palace club event.

She definitely wasn’t _bothered_ that he never saw her in anything other than comfortable clothes. Cullen was Cullen, and never seemed to care if she was mussed from sleep or unwashed from two days of being in a car with old bacon McGriddle wrappers as perfume. But the thought lingered... what would he do if he could see her at her most polished?

Would he be intimidated, or impressed?

Cassandra walked in as Elodie mulled over the possibilities; the Seeker was already stripping off one of her tank tops before she even got through the door.

“Cass,” Elodie said, trying to be casual. Cassandra paused, raising one eyebrow.

“What.”

“Are my advisors going with us to Halamshiral this weekend?”

“Yes. At Celene’s request, they’ll be taking turns tending bar.”

“How do you know this?”

“I talked with Cullen.”

Elodie could feel her eyes widen, could feel her face reacting, even as she tried to look unphased. Cassandra smirked knowingly and unlocked her locker, pulling out a little basket of shampoos and a small loofah. She threw her bath towel over her other arm.

“When your advisors are not behind the counter,” Cassandra continued, “they will be roaming the club, free to fraternize with at your leisure.”

“I didn’t say-”

“You did not have to. Now come on. Shower quickly. I want to go get a smoothie before the juice counter closes.”

The Seeker continued peeling off the rest of her layers, striding into the showers with just her towel and shower caddy and leaving Elodie with her mouth half open and her sentence half finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Found out that 8tracks only lets you listen to like... two hours of music a day now, so have a link to my [youtube playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLt0YrNNsdY3LqyW7m9b_898YtWdEjD2lj) for the songs Cassandra randomly took from Elodie's mixes.


	14. Backwoodsy

The party was stopping more often than Elodie knew they had time for as they made their way out to the Western Approach. She couldn’t bring herself to regret the detours, though, not when they were traveling through the mountains. Everything was gorgeous and green and misty, exactly the opposite of what they would be getting once they made their way into the desert-bordered, long-since irradiated city central of the Approach.

Biochemical weapons had made it so that no plants could grow out there, and no creatures save mutated reptiles from the local zoo survived. Sandy concrete ground down over centuries was all she could expect once they cleared the luckily untouched Dales. Elodie wanted to soak up the green while she could, even though the poverty in this area was apparent and rampant, and every Dalish clan they met along the way needed their help. This trip she was trying to keep her perspective glass half full, and it seemed like Blackwall was intent on helping her do so.

The first place Blackwall had suggested they stop at was a diner that served apple pie with cheddar cheese slices on top. It was nestled in the valley before they had to turn on another highway cut into the mountains’ rocky chest. It would be a nice break before an hour or so of curves and piss-poor gas mileage.

“Oh, charming,” Dorian said as he got out of the car. Elodie couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but she liked the look of it. Outside the door were windchimes, handmade out of copper piping and unevenly hung crystal beads. On a sunny day she assumed they’d catch the light, but today in the mist they hung eerily still. Without thinking anything of it, Elodie pulled out her phone and sent a snapchat to Cullen. The label was  _why does this place feel like it would have faerie rings out back?_

She sent another, a close up of the windchime.  _I bet you money the fae here would let me trade pretty plastic for favors._

“Is it too much to hope that this place will have WiFi?” Vivienne muttered. Dorian gave a wry laugh, and Elodie put her phone away as the man turned to Vivienne.

“It might be too much to hope that it has less than two ghosts haunting it at any given time.”

“Hush now, you two,” Elodie chided before Vivienne could rebuttle. "There are no such things as ghosts." Vivienne looked at her, seemingly pleased, until Elodie cracked a wide grin. "Everybody knows it's faeries that live in the Dales."

"How charming," Vivienne said.

The yard surrounding the little restaurant was a touch overgrown, with a push-mower sitting past the gravel parking lot. She could smell cedar, could see the smoke of a woodstove around back. Maybe it was part of the restaurant, or maybe there was a little house past the layers of fern and pine that she couldn’t see. The sign over the doorway read “BAELA’S BUFFET” and in the corner an old marquee for gas prices was unsuccessfully blurred with layers of chipping white paint.

Upon entering the establishmet, Elodie was hit with a wave of old cigarette smoke, the smell of rich coffee, and bluegrass music over the radio. She relaxed. This felt kind of like home to her, and when a pretty Dalish girl came out to take their order from the kitchens, Elodie almost sighed in relief. The girl’s vallaslin were a bright teal, spanning down the length of her forehead and cutting into her lip. She and Elodie shared a look, a little smile, and a nod. Sitting down at the counter, Vivienne ordered a glass of water.

“Not from the tap if you can manage it, dear.”

The rest deferred to Blackwall’s suggestions.

“This place makes a mean macaroni salad come summertime, but I’m willing to bet they’re still on the spring menu, right Tara?”

The girl nodded, and Elodie wondered if Blackwall knew her, or if he had just read her nametag. The nametag had a little holographic sticker of a heart on its corner, half-peeled off.

That was how they all ended up with coffee and the apple pie, not that anyone was complaining. Even Vivienne was keeping to herself, her manicured thumbs tapping out an email on her phone as she checked statistics on a minature tablet.

“How’d you know about this place?” Dorian asked with his mouth half full. The Grey Warden sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair, dark blue flannel peeking out of his canvas hunting jacket, his hat with the silver griffin wing pin on it almost covering his eyes. He’d already finished his pie.

“Not to get too far into it, but I spent some time around here when I was first recruited into the Wardens. It’s a difficult region to make your way in, a lot of lyrium smuggling, a lot of drug rings and poverty. But we set up afterschool programs, mentorship opportunities, and some summer camps.”

He set his coffee cup down as Dorian paused with his fork midair. With a smile, Blackwall turned to Elodie.

“Lotta memories, being back here.”

“Good ones?” she asked.

Blackwall just continued to smile, his eyes glancing away, his lack of response a bit too cryptic for Elodie’s taste.

“So you spent a lot of time out here,” Dorian supplied.

“We did. A lot of time to explore, a lot of time to ask locals for the good spots, and by and by we found some gems like this diner.”

“Well, if they all turn out to be as delicious as this one,” Dorian said with a grin, “I vote that we stop at any and all spots you deem to be gems.”

“I don’t want to delay the Inquisitor,” Blackwall said, leaning back to make eye contact with Elodie over Vivienne’s shoulder. Elodie craned her neck to see him past Vivienne’s gold and white silk headscarf. Vivienne, to her credit, leaned forward only slightly to allow for better ease of conversation while she worked. Elodie smiled at Blackwall, careful not to nudge Vivienne’s elbow with her own as she leaned slightly his way.

“Delay all you like,” she teased. “We’re not pressed to get there.”

“We’re going there specifically to meet up with other Wardens,” Blackwall reminded her. “That’s a pretty big deal, if what they’re facing is what’s really happening.”

“Their social media feeds have all but stopped, their Twitter replies have slowed to a crawl, and in the Warden forums I’ve not heard of anything new,” Vivienne muttered.

So she was paying attention after all.

Blackwall’s brow furrowed, and he gave a long sigh.

“I don’t know that that’s necessarily a good thing,” he ventured. “Maybe we should press a bit quicker, given the lack of info.”

“I understand the gravity of the situation,” Elodie said, shooting him what she hoped was a sympathetic glance over Vivienne’s shoulder. “But Hawke is out there at the moment with Stroud,, so if something were happening they would have immediately texted me. Which is why I sent them ahead.”

“Mmm,” Blackwall grunted.

“All we have are some rumors of some AI corruption through Twitter, and a few Snaps we screenshot threatening self-harm. If we rush into some kind of trap…”

Elodie grit her teeth, trying to suppress the sudden, unbidden memories of when Haven was attacked. She picked at her pie crust with her fork until the feeling of shakiness subsided. Her companions waited, the sounds of soft, staticky bluegrass and clicking forks on ceramic filling her silence.

“Until we hear something for certain,” Elodie continued, “I’m taking this slow.”

“As you wish,” Blackwall sighed. “You are, after all, in charge.”

“I think the Inquisitor is also curious as to what all you can show us around here,” Dorian attempted to mediate, glancing over at Elodie with a desperate face. “Aren’t you, your Worship?”

“What’s this Worship business?” Elodie muttered. She took a swig of coffee that tasted even better than she thought it would. It was rish, dark, heavily roasted without being burnt. She didn’t need to cover it with cream and sugar like the freeze-dried stuff she ended up drinking at Skyhold out of desperation.

“I’m buttering you up,” Dorian sighed. “Is it working, or not?”

“There’s more than enough butter in this pie crust alone,” Elodie laughed. “No need to add more.”

She turned to Blackwall, hesitation forcing her to take a deep breath.

“Honestly, if you want to go faster, we-”

“You all deserve a break, you know,” Dorian said, interrupting her.

Nobody argued. Not even Vivienne, whose thumbs paused a fraction of a second in her typing. Dorian nodded, giving a small sigh.

“We’ve been on the road for a while now, been cooped up for a little too long, and I think we’re all a bit tense. So why don’t we take the rest of today to indulge in a few distractions?”

“It might not be a bad idea,” Elodie conceded.

“When have I ever had a bad idea?” Dorian chirped. Before Elodie could answer, and boy did she have examples, he continued. “It’s decided then. Just for today, we’ll go on a countryside visit of the tourist traps in the area, led by our most beloved Warden uncle.”

“Who decided I was your uncle?” Blackwall protested.

“It was either uncle or grandfather,” Dorian sighed. “It _is_ hard to judge just how young you are, since you refuse to shave that black wool monstrosity off of your chin.”

Blackwall gave a snort, taking a drink of coffee.

“Don’t think you want to be critiquing facial hair with me,” he rumbled kindly. Elodie snickered, but Dorian pressed on.

“I assume that if you _were_ a grandfather, you would have taken advantage of the senior citizen discount at this place,” he finished.

As if realizing the potential of another dig, Dorian glanced at Vivienne. Elodie shook her head, eyes wide and mouth set tight in a warning before the man even opened his mouth a second time. The enchantress was not snippy for once, and Elodie wanted to keep it that way.

Vivienne, to her credit, was very adept at ignoring them all, and she did not look up to see the silent exchange.

“I don’t know that we’ll hear the end of it if we don’t explore a bit more,” Elodie said aloud, once she was sure Dorian wasn’t going to goad the woman between them. Elodie looked up at Blackwall, her eyes bright. He smiled back.

“Fine,” he muttered. “So long as nobody calls me Uncle or Grandpa.”

“What about Cousin Wally?” Dorian purred.

This was what finally broke Vivienne out of her screen focus. She looked up at Dorian and gave one titter before looking back down at her screen. It was too difficult not to laugh at that, and even Vivienne didn’t hide her smile as the other three giggled at her side. Elodie signaled to Tara that she wanted the check, and then moved to take out her wallet from her backpack.

“Alright, so where to Blackwall?” Elodie asked. “What’s next on the list?”

“I hope it’s not food,” Dorian said with a grunt. “I don’t know that much could follow after this delicious pie.”

“You didn’t have to have two pieces,” Blackwall pointed out.

“Didn’t have to have two pieces, he says,” Dorian mocked, feigning offense. “The audacity of such a suggestion.”

“Well…” Blackwall looked back down at his coffee, smiling into the black. “I’ve got a few things in mind, come to mention it.”

Tara came by, Elodie snapped up the receipt before anybody else could get a hold of it. She and Blackwall both left a generous tip, for both the excellent food and a more insidious sense of impending trouble. Maybe if they amassed some good karma along the way, by the time they reached the Approach, things wouldn’t be as bad as they feared. As they exited the diner, Elodie pulled out her phone and saw an answering snap.

A picture of a desk covered in papers, and in the black laptop screen Elodie could see a reflection of her bedraggled Commander resting his cheek on his hand. She wondered if he realized he'd inadvertently sent her a selfie. The label, which she barely had time to read before it disappeared, read:  _don't eat any peaches they give you_

A second snap immediately followed. The same picture, with Cullen making eye contact in the black of the laptop screen.

He'd done it on purpose then.

The label, blinking out of sight in four seconds:  _wouldn't want you dancing with any Goblin kings_

Elodie paused, staring at their empty chat log, marveling at how a simple photo from him got her all giddy. She blinked and then tried to set her expression to neutral, turning her face so the waning gray light filtering through thewindows could catch the glitter shadow she'd lined her eyes with this morning. She took a picture as subtly as she could.

_Did you just make a Labyrinth reference, Commander?_ Elodie captioned the quick selfie, one she knew Dorian had to have noticed as Tara got Blackwall a to-go box for an extra slice of pie.

Cullen's response, typed, with no picture: _it's a classic, Inquisitor_

Elodie smirked, clicking off her phone and slipping her leather jacket back on over her shoulders as they all prepared to leave.

Full of pie and revved from the coffee, the four companions got back into the Surefoot and were on their way, pulling off the highway onto a side express that boasted lower speed limits with more scenic overlooks. Signs warning to watch for halla jumping out, along with signs to be wary of tractors, were on every other curve. They passed by an aravel campsite, its misty parking lot filled with minivans and pickup trucks. Elodie ached, homesick for a town that wasn't even her home.

Their next stop was to an optical allusion, where apparently the wind would blow snowflakes upwards in the winter, giving the impression that the weather was upside-down and magical. It was only thirty minutes out of the way, during which Blackwall explained the phenomenon and the legend behind it. Supposedly a Templar had absconded with her charge, running away from a Circle dormitory together back in the day. They’d made a mistake, a misstep on the ledge, and the charge had tumbled practically down the cliff. But out of some miracle, a gust of wind bore the man aloft and carried him to safety, back to his Templar lover’s waiting arms. And from then on, the snow always fell upwards, as if remembering how their love was brought back together.

“Stranger things have happened, to be fair,” Dorian commented, peeking over the edge of the cliff. Blackwall chuckled.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you Dorian?”

“I have a healthy respect for gravity,” the Tevinter said with a sniff. “That’s all.”

“What a beautiful view,” Vivienne said. “I bet it’s breathtaking when the weather’s nicer, or perhaps during a sunset.”

“It’s incomparable,” Blackwall agreed.

“Such a pity it’s cloudy, gray, and cold today, isn’t it?”

“Quite. Shall we move on, then?” Blackwall asked, holding out his elbow for her to take. Elodie smirked as the enchantress took his arm and patted it as one might an aging grandfather. Even though she was pretty sure Vivienne was the older of the two, Elodie watched as Blackwall led her back to the car and opened her door for her.

“Chivalry is apparently not dead after all,” she said as she settled her trenchcoat around her legs in the front seat. “Although it may be choking out a deathrattle where some men are concerned.”

Blackwall shut the door gently and Dorian leaned close to Elodie’s ear.

“My sense of chivalry has a DNR, just so you know,” he mumbled. “If you even attempt to revive it, I will sue you.”

“Duly noted,” Elodie said, flipping his cashmere scarf up into his face as she smiled and strode over to the car as well.

After another hour winding through misty green mountains, the group came to a stop at what looked to be somebody’s home on the side of the two-lane highway. It had a large, circular drive, enough to house at least ten cars parked tail to tip, and there looked to be an overabundance of wooden sculptures of squirrels out front.

“Afternoon! Are those for sale?” Blackwall asked as they approached the owner. He was an older man, sitting on his porch in a rocking chair wearing a pair of overalls with a few pens hooked onto the front pocket. The man gave a dry cough, then nodded.

“Every last one. Made them myself, hand-carved and hand-painted.”

“Any particular reason why you have such a fascination with arboreal rodents?” Dorian asked.

“Huh,” the old man grunted. Dorian sighed.

“Why the squirrels?”

“So many around, I figure I know well enough what they look like. Might as well carve ‘em.”

“They’re in outfits,” Vivienne said sweetly, and Elodie couldn’t tell if it was her fake happy voice or if she was actually charmed by the palm-sized rodent carvings. She made a noise that sounded very close to a squeal, and Elodie looked to Dorian with wide eyes. The man shrugged, just as confused, as Vivienne whispered, “Look, this one has garden shears and a sunflower.”

“That one’s my favorite,” the old man said, not even looking up. Blackwall chuckled.

“Alright. Any discounts if I buy in bulk?”

“Depends. How bulk we talking here?”

“How’s ten of them strike you?”

“Mighty fine. I’ll cut you a deal. Y’all go on and sit, I’ll get my ledger. You want some boiled peanuts while you wait?”

“Sure, we’ll take a bag,” Blackwall said, taking out his well-worn leather wallet and flipping through some bills to pull forth for the man.

“Peanuts are on the house,” the old man said, handing Blackwall a plastic baggie of what looked like pickled thumbs.

“What on _earth_ are those?” Dorian gasped as the squirrel carver got up to go look for his receipt book.

“Now don’t tell me they don’t have boiled peanuts in Tevinter,” Blackwall said, pulling one out.

“No. We recognize that anything that looks like that is not meant to be consumed,” Dorian grunted. Blackwall rolled his eyes over to Elodie.

“Inquisitor, tell me you had these back in Wycome,” Blackwall begged. “Planasene Parkway had to be full of stops with these babies.”

Elodie, wide-eyed, shook her head.

“I don’t think we have these in the most podunk of the Free Marches’ towns.”

“Psh. You definitely do,” Blackwall said, taking the soggy legume and sucking on it. He popped the boiled nut out of its shell, drinking the juice along with it, and discarded the shell into some nearby, half-wilted petunias with a little toss of his fingers. Vivienne glanced up at the noise, but it looked like she was taking snaps of the various outfitted squirrels and couldn’t be bothered to come see why Dorian was gagging.

“Those look like tiny scrotums,” the former model said, and Elodie barked a laugh. Blackwall sucked a tooth in disapproval.

“No call for that kind of language, ‘specially in front of the ladies,” he warned. “Here, try one. They’re salty.”

Dorian tittered, earning him a darker glower from the Warden.

“I’ll have one,” Elodie said, reaching into the bag. Pulling it out, the texture was a bit spongy, slightly off-putting. She tried not to grimace. “What do I do?”

“Bite into it while you push on the peanut, popping it into your mouth. Some juice’ll come out, make sure you suck on it to catch it all.”

“Sounds intricate,” Dorian said, tickling his fingers along Elodie’s purple leather jacket. She swatted his hand away and tried not to laugh. “And oddly familiar.”

“It’s like those fancy salted soy bean pods you ate as an appetizer that one time,” Blackwall said, narrowing his eyes, “if that’s what you mean.”

“It wasn’t, but I am fascinated by your comparison to edamame, since it looks like edamame’s misshapen cousin.”

Dorian reached out, flicking his hand in a ‘give me’ gesture. Blackwall handed over the plastic sack and Dorian took one out. Elodie still hadn’t bitten into hers.

“Down the hatch,” Dorian cooed, tapping his peanut against hers. She laughed, nodded her thanks at Blackwall, and then Elodie and Dorian both bit into the nuts at the same time.

The texture was soggy, as expected from something boiled. Elodie tasted lukewarm saltwater for the most part, and Dorian made a noise in the back of his throat. Blackwall chuckled, sounding pleased.

“Yeah you’ll get used to it, but first time’s usually like that,” he said, acknowledging their reaction. Elodie kind of liked it after a moment, after she could get used to the texture, but Dorian seemed upset at having to swallow it. Once he did, after a hem and haw that lasted a few uncomfortable minutes, he sighed deeply.

“I stand by my first assessment.”

“Don’t continue comparing my snack to ballsacks if you can help it,” Blackwall laughed, his voice round and pleasant. Elodie leaned on his shoulder, content, as the owner of the property pushed his screen door open and came out with a wrinkled receipt book.

“No longer concerned for ladies present?” Dorian asked.

“Not after I got the Inquisitor to try one,” Blackwall laughed.

“Alright,” the owner called, stepping out of his house with a large receipt book. “You got some picked out, or-”

“We do,” Vivienne piped up from behind the crowd. The trio turned to face her and all three made a different noise of surprise at the sight.

Vivienne’s arms were overburdened with tiny squirrel carvings, numbering much more than the original ten count Blackwall had given the owner.

“I’ll take all of these, please,” Vivienne said, managing great dignity somehow. “And I will be leaving my card with you in case you make anymore sunflower ones, because they are simply adorable!”

“Vivienne,” Elodie muttered, trying to decide if she was being facetious or not. That had to be at least twenty squirrels. The enchanter’s eyes were determined, however, and so Elodie concluded, “Where will you put them all?”

“I’ll find a place for them.”

“But-”

“Bastien’s sister is particularly fond of animals in human clothing, if you _must_ know,” Vivienne said with an ill-contained eyeroll. “She would positively lose herself over these. And… I happen to really like sunflowers myself,” she tacked on quietly.

Blackwall bit his lip, holding back a smile.

“Anything the lady wants is on me, plus two of those large standing bears.”

He looked over at Elodie, unable to conceal his grin any longer as he took in her shocked expression.

“Tell me you’re not going to put those in your room,” she begged.

“Nah. They’re for Sera. Might improve her aim a bit.”

“I’m telling her you said that,” Dorian chuckled as he moved to help Vivienne with her haul.

“Not if I tell her first,” Blackwall laughed.

Elodie leaned over onto the Warden’s shoulder as they all snickered. She nuzzled briefly onto the canvas with her forehead.

“Thanks for the detours, Blackwall.”

He cleared his throat and patted her curls with a large open palm, and Elodie pulled back before she made the man uncomfortable.

“Go clear out the trunk for me, Inquisitor,” he said, a smile in his voice. Elodie turned right as Dorian reached for another boiled peanut, saying something about liking it once he got used to the squish.

Elodie mused about how very much like a family they all were. Even now, even as they argued over who was going to have to carry squirrels in their lap on the ride home, it was kind. She kept the thought to herself, and instead opened the trunk to sift through old plastic bags and ammunition. She had to make space for their new menagerie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavily inspired by the years I lived in the Appalachias, a place that forever feels like both a liminal space and a comforting home to me. I could probably just write Appalachia AUs for every single OTP I have....
> 
> I mean I might as well, right?


	15. Trying New Makeup & Trying My Patience

“If you stick that in my eye, I will end you,” Cassandra threatened. The tiny makeup artist clucked her tongue behind her teeth, drawing a line along Cassandra’s cheek with a dark wax. “What is that you’re doing to my face?”

“It’s contouring,” Vivienne said in lieu of the makeup artist. She was replying to an email in a flurry of swipes across her cell phone and didn't even look up. “She’ll blend it eventually to simulate shadows and highlights on your skin.”

“Do highlights not happen naturally in light?” Cassanra muttered.

Vivienne ignored her stoically. She clicked her smartphone screen to black and looked up, shooting an approving glance over at the elf working on Elodie.

“The Inquisitor has an interesting eye color, play that up,” she commented. "Maybe some bronze foiled shadow?"

The man nodded, tucking a strand of dark hair behind his ear. Grabbing a color palette that seemed to span the entire rainbow, the man blocked Elodie’s line of sight just as Cassandra grunted hard.

“Stop smacking my cheek.”

“I have to.”

“You do not.”

“I _must_ blend the colors, miss.”

“I want to be my own color, thank you.”

The makeup artist huffed, and Elodie looked up to make eye contact with her own artist. This entire ordeal was just a practice to lead up to the night of the party at Halamshiral, but Vivienne had told them to treat it seriously. Cassandra had sat silent for her initial foundation application... at least up until this point.

Elodie’s makeup artist smiled conspiratorially and mouthed, ‘wow’ very slowly. Elodie blinked long and slow like a cat, acknowledging that it was utterly ridiculous. She knew it must come from a place of insecurity, knew that Cassandra tended to get prickly when she felt threatened, but she had thought her friend would be mature enough to keep it to herself for a few hours.

But no. This seemed to be a breaking point for the Seeker. At one point she had even gone so far as to bat an eyeliner crayon from the artist’s hand and threaten to impale her with it should she try to line her waterline again. She had given no reason for the protests, but at this point nobody was asking anyway.

“Cassandra, dear, how often did you have to attend events back in Nevarra?”

“Often enough to know I did not care for them,” Cassandra murmured, and Elodie closed her eyes as her makeup artist dropped his eyeshadow brush to tap it free of loose powder on the edge of the palette.

“Surely you’ve worn makeup before?”

“I have worn some, yes.”

“So tell me why you insist on acting as if you’re undergoing torture as opposed to getting ready for a night on the town.”

“I enjoy simple eyeshadow and simple lipstick. I do not appreciate being layered like a frilly cake someone wants to dip their finger into.”

Elodie and her makeup artist had to both bite down hard on their lips to keep from laughing out loud at the imagery, and the subsequent hiss of indignation from Cassandra’s artist.

"I am not making you frilly anything!"

"And how would I know this?"

The two devolved into pointed bickering, Vivienne heaving a great sigh at the spectacle.

“What’s your name?” Elodie asked the man before her. He had beautiful rose-colored tattoos peeking out from underneath of his bangs and a kind, thin-lipped smile on his very young face. She closed her eyes again before he answered.

“Hanin,” he said, bringing up his brush for the third time and finally touching it to her eyelid. Elodie sighed as his other hand moved a crescent of blotter paper to catch any stray powder beneath her eye as he worked on batting on colored powder.

“Beautiful name,” she commented, trying not to move her face too much. Unlike Cassandra, she liked seeing herself transform. When she’d asked that he not cover the large scar running over her left eye down onto her cheek, Hanin had agreed. She’d relaxed considerably since then.

“You’re one to talk, Miss Lavellan,” he said good-naturedly, switching to her other eye. “Keep ‘em closed for me, okay? I’m going to get your crease colored in.”

“Okay,” she breathed. On instinct, she tacked on, "And you can call me Elodie, if you want."

Hanin huffed a tiny laugh.

“Even prettier."

"Glad you think so."

"I was named after my grandfather,” Hanin said gently. “You?”

“Don’t know,” she murmured, trying to keep her face a mask of stillness. “My father never talked much about it.”

“Sounds like an Orlesian name.”

“It does,” Elodie said, trying to smile without moving her face. It was too difficult, and she gave up, letting her face relax. “I noticed you have vallaslin too.”

“I do,” Hanin said, and Elodie could hear the click of plastic makeup pallettes as he switched colors for her brow accent. When he paused, she opened her eyes to see why. Hanin pulled up his sleeves to reveal more rose markings on his forearms. “I decided to go full body for my eighteenth birthday. I figured why not.”

“I like them,” Elodie said, giving another twist of a smile. Hanin gave another little huff of pleasure.

"Close your eyes for me."

When she obeyed, he blew gently on her eyelid to get rid of the excess shimmer dust.

“See?” Vivienne said, and even without opening her eyes Elodie could imagine the enchanting tech-savvy goddess gesturing with a bare limb her way. “Elodie doesn’t fuss like a two year old being asked to eat their greens.”

“Feed me greens instead of poking me with sticks of various colors. All of which, I might add, are not my skin color,” Cassandra said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know if I can curl her eyelashes,” the tiny makeup artist muttered, and something clacked decidedly against a tabletop. “If she’s reacting this way to the contouring crayon-”

“How long have you been doing makeup, Hanin?” Elodie asked as Cassandra and her makeup artist fussed with each other. She peeked through one eye as Hanin brought a brush gilded in glittery chocolate-colored powder close to her lid.

“Ever since I was very little. I could barely hold a brush, but I was already trying to blend shadows on my cheeks.”

He spoke in a soft voice when the makeup brush was in his hand, as if he didn’t want to move his own facial muscles out of habit.

“Must have been nice to know what you wanted to do from such a young age,” Elodie said softly.

“It was a dream. But then Madame de Fer saw my videos online and employed me at one of her clubs. Actually, a year ago, right about the time you escaped the Conclave bombing.” She flinched slightly as he began to dab the brush into the crease of her eyelids. “Sorry. Anyway, I always liked playing with color, but I never imagined I’d be doing makeup trials for the Inquisitor.”

“I never thought I’d be the Inquisitor, if it makes you feel better,” Elodie said with a wry smirk. Hanin laughed.

“You tell me if you like this, by the way, once I finish. If not we can try something else.”

“That sounds lovely,” Cassandra muttered. “I would like to try something else.”

“Don’t be mean, my dear, you haven’t even seen it yet,” Vivienne chided, her tone clipped and her voice betraying how little patience she had left.

“Let’s just wait until the end, Cass,” Elodie said, tilting her head back when Hanin touched a finger to her forehead.

A few blending brushes later, along with a few bronzer swipes, and then a coat of nude lipstick (at Elodie’s request), and they were finished with the makeup portion of the trial.

“Tell me what you think,” Hanin said, bringing over a large mirror for Elodie to hold as she checked herself out.

It was a lot to take in at first. Elodie felt airbrushed, barely real. The contouring was subtle but helped accentuate the heart shape of her face, and a highlight drew attention to the curve of her cheekbones. She tilted her head and her cheeks shimmered like they were reflecting starlight. Even the dark circles she’d been plagued with lately had been expertly touched up. She blinked; the false eyelashes that Hanin had glued in small bustles along her upper lashline felt a bit heavy. She blinked again, slower this time, to get used to them.

“Your eyes are so big, I wanted them to have a fuller frame,” he said, as if explaining her thoughts. Had she said something out loud? No, she was just opening and closing her eyes like a docile cow.

She looked up at him and he smiled immediately.

“I love how these single lashes fit. Since you have strong lashes already, and dark ones, we don’t have to use full lashes. They might make you into too much of a dollbaby.”

“Which could be a look to try,” Vivienne directed at Elodie above the surface of her tablet PC. She had gotten it out to get some work done once she’d finished on her phone.

“I really like this,” Elodie murmured, looking back to the mirror. Her skin, normally tan and slightly freckled from the sun, was now as smooth as peanut butter. Her scar was barely visible, and the same went for her vallaslin. They were suddenly so light, as if her skin had been returned to what it was when she was ten years old. She traced her index finger down the edge of her scar reverently, as if checking to make sure that it was still there. She half expected her fingertip to come away colored, but the shimmer setting spray had cemented the foundation in place.

“Oh, here, let me adjust that,” Hanin said, grabbing a q-tip. He dipped it in some makeup-remover oil and twisted the tip into a fine point. He then dragged the q-tip down her scar a few times, highlighting it as he removed the cover-up. He dusted a luminescent powder gently over it to set what foundation he’d brought off and wick away excess oil that might remain. “There you go,” he said, still positively exuding pride in his work. “Much more prominent, like you asked for.”

“Ohhh,” Elodie breathed, looking at what felt very much like her face.

Just flawed enough.

She had always loved makeup, but never really found the time to do all of this, and in this moment a part of her was convinced she’d find the time from now on. Elodie blinked hard and fast, trying not to cry. Her waterline was darkened with kohl and brushed with glittering copper dust, and if she cried then that would surely streak.

“Honey,” Hanin whispered, grabbing up a folded piece of paper from her desk and fanning her eyes very gently to dry up the tears. “What do you not like? I’ll change it no problem, it won’t take long.”

“No, no,” Elodie sniffed hard, dabbing her knuckle in the inner corner of her eyes one at a time, catching tears before they ran. “I love it. I feel so…” she shrugged, struggling to get the word out. “So pretty.” Hanin looked down at her with such immediate sincerity and understanding that she just had to laugh at herself. “I never really do much besides my eyeliner and some lipstick, so I guess I’m just shocked.”

“It can be a very liberating and intense experience, to have someone accentuate the best of your features to their advantage,” Vivienne said, putting a soothing hand on her shoulder. Elodie almost flinched, but then she realized Vivienne was being sincere… almost warm, even. Elodie sighed, nodded, and leaned into the cool, well-lotioned palm. Vivienne squeezed encouragingly. “Wait until we do your hair. Isolde, stop fussing, Cassandra has more than enough blush on.”

“Yes ma’am,” the little makeup artist said, setting down her brush and bringing over a mirror to the Seeker. “Please don’t be mad,” she pleaded.

“I… am not mad,” Cassandra said, sounding just the opposite in fact. Elodie put her own mirror down, Hanin taking it from her hands before it could balance on the table. She craned to try to get a look at her companion as she continued. “I did not think I would be recognizable at the end, but I really… actually like what you’ve done.”

“Let me see,” Elodie begged.

Cassandra set the mirror down slightly and Elodie could see her smiling in the bright natural light of Vivienne’s windowed stateroom.

“Oh Cass.”

“It was worth some of the torture,” Cassandra said, looking back to the mirror. Her eyes were shadowed with a gorgeous red-wine matte powder, smoked out into dark charcoal that made her already-intimidating gaze twenty times as fierce. Her lips had been lined and highlighted with a dark burgundy gloss, and the contouring that the artist Isolde had done accentuated Cass’ strong jaw and delicate nose with subtle alacrity.

Cassandra had been given a full set of false eyelashes, but they looked to be shaped shorter than her natural lashes, just barely there to add fullness and shadow. Hanin hummed in approval, and Vivienne began to make a few phone calls.

“What will we be doing with your hair, honey?” Hanin asked Elodie.

“Ah… I’m not sure. Vivienne?”

“We’ll be playing up your curls, darling,” Vivienne said, covering the phone speaker with her palm. “Now hush, I’m calling about finding you an outfit coordinator for the night.”

“I have my own clothes,” Elodie protested.

“You invited me to Halamshiral, did you not?” Vivienne asked, her eyes flinted and her plush matte pout drawn thin in disapproval. Elodie nodded while Cassandra exhaled in a long, suppressed sigh. Vivienne nodded, then added, “You must have asked me for a reason.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t so that I could be treated like a Barbie doll,” Elodie muttered.

“I believe the metaphor was babydoll,” Cassandra said, her voice low and gruff, as if she were done with this conversation before it had even started.

“It was. Although the final effect will be less _doll_ and more _dom_ ,” Vivienne promised, and then whoever she was trying to call picked up the phone. “Coucou Thibault? C’est Vivienne. Passe-moi a Marie-Louise, s’il te plait, cherie!”

As Madame de Fer launched into Orlesian that Elodie could only catch bits and pieces of, Hanin began to set hair styling equipment, along with various serums and sprays, onto her desk alongside his makeup tool kit.

“You let me know if you need a minute to breathe,” he said, and Elodie could only nod. Breathing was the last thing on her mind.

* * *

Hours later, when the noon sun was high in the sky, Elodie was released from Vivienne’s room. She had shed the smock Hanin had lent her so that no powder would fall on her black tshirt, and her shoulder felt infinitely lighter. At Vivienne’s insistence, she was going to go out and move around to make sure the foundation, shadow, and curls would stay in their place.

Elodie was fine with the agreement, until she realized she had agreed to try to escape the hotel in full glamour makeup. She grit her teeth, resisting the urge to bite her lower lip for fear of ruining the lipstick.

It wasn't that she was scared. Elodie faced mutated alligators the other day; it took more than that to scare her. But the word that came to mind instead was something along the lines of embarrassed. Worried. She hadn't even worn this much makeup when she was poledancing in Wycome. The comparison made her gut clench. Was this an unconscious reason why she normally did not glitz herself up? Did it remind her of her past... or was she worried it would remind  _others_ of who she had been?

Elodie put her hand out, palm finding the wall, and steadied herself.

She could still get out of here unseen. Cowering in her room was not an option to her. Elodie knew that she would not hide herself, even if she was pulsing with nauseous adrenaline. It would be okay, she reasoned. Most of the recruits at this time would be in the research area of the hotel, not wandering the halls. Places for banquets on the middle floors had been converted for huge computer servers to be brought in and cooled, so there were few people there; lower levels like the gym were booked during the day for combat and weapons courses, so she should avoid those floors. Most likely she wouldn’t run into anyone, she told herself. She would go downstairs, ask Leliana to go to lunch with her, and then text Vivienne how everything held up. Leliana would be blunt, a good person to be around seeing as Elodie felt too sharp.

“In _quis_ itor,” a cooing female voice rang out before Elodie could escape.

She swung gently around so that her mane of curls didn't tug at the pins holding it up in place, and squinted to see who had called her. Sera was at the other end of the hall with Krem and The Iron Bull. Out of nerves and sheer panic, Elodie struck a ridiculous pose and hoped that her friends wouldn't see how anxious she was. She was happy she’d chosen a plain black t-shirt to wear with her favorite low-slung jeans. Even if her makeup was outlandish, her clothes were still very plain.

Sera whistled appreciatively, either not noticing Elodie's unease or trying to reassure her of it.

“You look so…” she cut herself off and made a guttural noise in the back of her throat.

“Y-you think so?” Elodie asked.

“Oh yeah, Boss,” Bull said, grunting as well. “You clean up real nice.”

“Thank you,” she replied, feeling a shiver of confidence vibrate up her spine. She narrowed her eyes at the trio. “Do I really look that different?”

“You look like you,” Krem said, smiling and tipping his head a bit. “But more so.”

“What, no animalistic noises for me, Krem?” Elodie asked, flushing happily at the simplicity of his compliment.

“No ma’am,” Krem said with a laugh, ruffling his hair with one hand. “You’ll get enough of it hanging around these two beasts.”

“You’ve got muchness about you indeed, mmm,” Sera grinned, wrapping her arms around Elodie’s neck. “How pretty. Look at it shimmering!”

“Don't hold me too close, you'll smudge it,” Elodie said, hugging her friend back. She let go and began to walk back towards the elevators, and her companions followed automatically. “What are you all doing up here anyway?”

“Looking for you,” Bull said. “I’ve been working with the Chargers on a community outreach program like you suggested, but I got a bit distracted. Wanted to come see you right away if you had time."

"Oh? What was the distraction?"

"Some news from Par Vollen.”

Bull glanced at the group, Krem got quiet, and Elodie could tell that now was not the time to ask for more details.

"You tell me when you need me, and I'm there," she promised. Bull nodded his understanding, then lowered his voice.

“We'll chat later,” he had the audacity to wink at her as they walked, “once you’re done looking so damn good.”

“Guess you'll never get around to that chat, then,” Krem said smoothly, and Elodie tried to cover her smile with the back of her hand. She reached out and swatted at Krem's shoulder. He flinched, giving her a bright smile in retaliation when he realized she wasn't actually upset. Elodie got the distinct feeling that the Lieutenant was just trying to outdo his chief in seeing who could make her blush first.

“Who taught you to flirt!” Bull roared with laughter as Sera reached out to push the elevator button.

"Not you, Chief, that's for damn sure."

“ _I’m_ here because I was bored, not that anyone is asking,” Sera said, smirking and pulling one of Elodie’s curls until it bounced back into place. “Lucky thing too. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this. You never wear this much makeup! It's like getting to see Bigfoot! But sexy!”

"Who said Bigfoot isn't already sexy?" Bull demanded.

“Hey, you didn’t want to come to the Winter Palace with me,” Elodie retorted, letting Sera preen her as they got into the elevator. “I asked, you know. You could’ve gotten your makeup done too.”

“Didn’t want to come, now I definitely don’t want to come,” Sera snarked. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t thoroughly appreciate your costume.”

"Thanks, Sera."

“I’m taking the Chargers to a bar next door to the Palace that night,” Bull said, elbowing Sera jovially. “Trying to convince Dorian and this one to meet us there. So we’ll be around for the afterparty, if you're up for one.”

“I might not be,” Elodie sighed. “There are two options as to how the night will play out. Either the two syndicates are going to actually merge in partnership, or there is legit an assassination plot underlying the party being thrown. Either way... messy.”

“I bet it’s the latter,” Krem said. “Fucking Orlais. Almost as bad as Tevinter.”

Bull grunted in agreement.

“We shall see,” Elodie sighed, pressing the button for the ground floor. “What are you all doing for lunch? There’s a new shop opposite the highway boasting the best Dwarven ale this side of the Frostbacks. And to be honest, I’d kill for a pint and an open-faced roast-beef sandwich.”

“All made up and you want greasy tavern food?” The Iron Bull asked, flexing through his leather jacket as he leaned onto the elevator doorframe. His laughter was a deep rumble that rolled over the group like thunder. “You got it, Boss.”

* * *

Coming back from a rather disappointing lunch a few hours later, Elodie was ready to shower everything off and become truly herself again. They hadn't eaten much because Sera had picked a fight with the non-Dwarven owner over the watered-down ale. It had, unfortunately, escalated into a verbal attack on the legitimacy of the advertising of the place. They had left before causing a physical ruckus, but it had not exactly been the lunch Elodie had hoped for.

If she'd brought Leliana, the complaint about the false advertising would've been much more subtle and might have resulted in something other than their being banned from the restaurant in the future.

Still, at least her makeup hadn’t run, and that had been the whole point, right? She had had to blot a bit of oil off the crest of her nose after a couple of hours, just as Hanin had shown her, but that wasn't so bad. The powders and paints were still in place. Her hair was also in the way like this, but remained fluffed to high Heaven. She was confident it would last through Halamshiral.

Elodie sighed, wandering through the hotel lobby towards the kitchen. She needed a snack. She’d left her food untouched when Sera had threatened to bring Varric and his buddies back to the tavern. The confrontation had cost her her appetite, as well as their table, and Elodie's stomach growled as she made her way through the lobby on a mission. Cole had been hoarding some yogurt covered raisins last time Elodie had chatted with him. She was sure he would share some with her if she asked nicely.

“Inquisitor?”

A soft call across the empty floor startled her back to herself. She turned and felt her stomach flip.

Attempting to stifle the nerves at the base of her spine that tingled at his voice, Elodie let out a breath and smiled at Cullen. He made his way over to her, about a dozen recruits at his back following him like ducklings. Elodie blinked at the absurd imagery. They had weapons held to their chests for Maker's sake.

“Commander Cullen,” she finally answered, nodding at him. His mouth was slightly open, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his eyes, as if he were in happy shock. She twisted her lips, waiting for him to react. “A-are you alright?”

“Perfect,” Cullen breathed, and a recruit snickered behind him. He cleared his throat, blinking fast like he was trying to refocus, and Elodie shifted her weight on her hips. He turned to glare back at whoever it was who had made a noise. When his eyes returned to hers, Elodie could see the self-control he was trying to exert.

She straightened her back under his watchful eye, a kiss of cool air on the tiny slice of midriff her shirt revealed when she did so. Cullen swallowed hard and focused his gaze decidedly _not_ on her stomach. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, and he seemed to struggle to find his words as his expression crumbled back into warm surprise.

“Are you… anything special today?”

Elodie could see his jaw work after he asked the question. She wondered if Cullen regretted having phrased it like that, if he was clenching his teeth to keep from correcting himself. It was endearing, getting to see him this flustered over nothing.

“Only a little special,” she kidded, and Cullen seemed to barely be able to hold back a grimace.

“Your makeup is gorgeous, ma’am,” Lysette said from a few people back, shouldering the duffel of ammo she was carrying. A few other recruits murmured agreement, and Elodie tore her gaze away from the distraught Commander.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. Lysette gave her a knowing smirk back, and Elodie added, “Vivienne deserves the credit for lending me her artist, though.” She turned to Cullen once more. “You should see Cassandra. Even more stunning.”

“I doubt anyone could hold a candle to you,” Cullen replied, sincerity strengthening his tone with confidence.

Elodie’s smile fell away, and she felt color threaten to creep up on the crest of her cheeks. She didn’t know what to do with the compliment except to hold onto it, letting it skim across her mind as she wondered if he’d actually said it or if she imagined it.

"Thank you," she whispered, beaming. She glanced away to gather herself, looking down to Cullen's ungloved hands just in time to see them clench into fists. Where were his gloves today? As if he was aware of where her gaze was trained, Cullen motioned behind himself with a curt wave and Lysette clapped her hands together hard.

“Alright recruits,” she barked, “we still have to get to the range before dinner. Let’s go. Say goodbye to the Inquisitor.”

A chorus of goodbyes, reminding Elodie of schoolchildren even as the men and women before her shouldered empty rifles and canisters of weapons lubricant. She nodded to each of them in turn as they passed her, but Cullen stayed immobile before her. In fact, once Lysette’s heavy bootsteps began to fade into the background, he took a half step closer to Elodie and lowered his voice.

“Are you free tonight?”

“I…” Elodie looked up, wide-eyed and pleased. Her pulse skyrocketed. It was happening.

_Answer him!_

“Y-yeah,” she stammered. “What did you- I mean, are you doing anything?”

“I’ve got some free time, I was going to text you but then…” he trailed off, his voice a rough whisper when he continued. “I was hoping to come and grab some music from you, if you were serious about what you said before.”

She blinked, puzzled at the suggestion, and then remembered their conversation at the end of kickboxing class a few days ago. Her confusion must have been evident, because Cullen began to backstep immediately.

“If it’s any trouble whatsoever, it’s really not important, I was just thinking-”

“No, no, it’s no trouble,” she answered, holding her hands up. Elodie swallowed, trying to figure out why she felt slightly disappointed. Had she wanted Cullen to ask her out, like on a date? Realistically, even if he had, when would they have the time?

“If you’re busy, I can wait,” he murmured. A pulse-pounding moment, one where Elodie worried she'd said her thoughts out loud. But no, she was sure he was just trying to be a gentleman as she stood there hesitating.

“Cullen, it’s really alright,” Elodie said, forcing a smile.

“Are you sure?” Cullen asked, his voice soft.

“Come by my room in a bit,” Elodie said. She pointed back towards the elevator with her thumb. “I was just going to shower really quick. Get all this makeup off.”

“Oh, by all means. But, um… I do like it, even if that goes without saying,” Cullen said. Elodie bit the inside of her cheek, flattered, and Cullen seemed to interpret that as discomfort. He cleared his throat and continued hurriedly, “The makeup, I mean.”

“It’s not too much?”

“No,” he breathed. “I mean, it is surprising.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“In a good way! Not that you need it, of course, but… your eyes are so damn bright, Elodie.”

Air fled from her lungs, and he looked down at her with such a warm, familiar smile that it hurt.

“You’re in luck,” she breathed. “You’ll get to see me all made up like this at Halamshiral.”

Her heart jumped into her throat at the thought. She was consumed by fragments of warmth spreading through her body with each thump of her pulse. The memory of Cullen's fingertips at her sternum made her reel, made her eyelashes feel too heavy. Nerves streaked through her spine as a panicked thought jolted her.

“You are going, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice small.

“Not of my own volition,” Cullen replied, sounding annoyed. Elodie frowned. He clarified with a weary sigh, “Josephine and Leliana, and oddly enough Cassandra, are insisting that I accompany you and help at the bar.”

“Do you have any experience tending bar?” Elodie asked.

Cullen’s jaw muscle moved as if he were gritting his teeth.

“None. We don’t exactly learn how to mix cocktails during Templar training.”

“Do you learn anything about dancing?” Elodie suggested, stepping slightly forward and glancing up at him through her false lashes. “I could see you being a very,” she glanced down at his lips, her voice low, “ _capable_ dancer, given the opportunity.”

“I… I don't...” Cullen fumbled over his words as he bent his head to her. It was only a fraction of an inch, but Elodie still caught it.

Cullen wanted this. It was not a projection of her own desires onto him, either. Cullen's furrowed brow, the way his lashes fell as his eyes roved over her lips, Elodie could see him being physically pulled to her. For the sake of the makeup test, maybe she should reach up and bring his lips down to hers, to see if the lipstick would transfer when their mouths met. She let out a tiny, impulsive noise at the thought.

Cullen seemed to remember himself at the sound. He drew away from her an inch, raising his eyes to hers.

"I don't dance," Cullen answered, his voice taut. He pulled back, straightening his shoulders and rolling his neck. His gaze was steady but unreadable, his hazel stare bright with something he couldn’t seem to say aloud. Elodie had a feeling that if she waited, he would either redden and apologize, or give up and leave without saying goodbye. She spared them both from the tension.

"Oh. That's... that's alright." She blinked quickly, forcing a smile. "We'll be so busy anyway, right? I doubt we'll have a chance."

"I-"

“I’ll text you when I’m out of the shower,” Elodie suggested over his words, trying to lighten the mood with her tone. She turned to go, not waiting for him to respond, and when she reached the elevators she chanced a look back at him. He was shaking his head, a hand ruffling through his curls, and if she wasn’t mistaken it looked almost as if he was muttering something to himself. Their twin disappointment was palpable, as if it clung to the very air between them.

Glancing down at her feet, Elodie turned back to the elevator doors and pushed the button to call it down. She tried to ignore the way her legs felt like jelly, telling herself it must just be an over-saturation of hairspray making her feel lightheaded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing slowburn fic often feels [like this](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5lIfxCJgcws/UU9JfQUbCSI/AAAAAAAAiGM/LWfjNssu7AM/s640/pistepseto.gr+20.jpg).
> 
> Halamshiral is steadily approaching, though, so at least there's that!


	16. H.A.L.T. Who Goes There?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H.A.L.T. = A way to asses how to self-care when you feel low. Stop and think: Are you Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired? Isolating the grumps can then help you to work through said grumps, just by pinpointing what you might need more of in your day.  
> **Have a tiny chapter to tide you over before Halamshenanigans ensue**

"I don't know that the map did anything to deserve that glare you're giving it," Varric offered, and it took Elodie a moment to snap out of it and look over at the dwarf. He chuckled. "Do we need to put it in time-out?"

"No," Elodie forced a smile, but it fell away immediately. She shook her head. "We're almost at the shop. We can pull over up there and walk the rest of the way."

"Thanks for doing this, Inky," Sera said, kicking out to adjust herself in the seat behind Elodie. "My people say that there should be some old school ruff-em-ups hanging around, and if we deal with them, we're done."

"That's it?" Elodie asked. "You're sure?"

"All it takes to send a message," Sera answered. She sounded like she was picking her teeth, and Elodie didn't really want to turn around and check to see if she was.

"Hope we don't need any interface pros out here," Bull muttered, one arm hanging out the open window while the other rested lazily atop the steering wheel. "You brought all of the technologically incapable along with you to do this job."

"Is that why you're pissed off, Toffee?" 

"No." Elodie slumped in her seat. "And I'm not pissed off."

She looked up in time to see Bull make eye contact with Varric in the rearview and raise one eyebrow.

"Okay so I'm in a bit of a mood. It's not anything you can help, though."

"Curly troubles, eh?" Varric murmured in what he probably thought was a soothing tone.

Elodie groaned, covering her face with both her hands.

"I'm not discussing this."

"Told ya! Pay up," Sera ordered, wriggling her fingers at the dwarf.

"She didn't say I was wrong," Varric protested.

Elodie tried to tune the two in the backseat out, tried to focus on the mission. She kept thinking that her phone was buzzing with unseen messages in her pocket, but she knew the latest text would still be Cullen's apology at having to cancel on her last night. She had read it, but she had not replied. She'd been too inordinately annoyed to even think of anything to say in response.

Of course he had canceled. Of course he was busy. They were closing in on more and more chemical attacks from Corypheus, they were all busy.

And when Cullen saw that she had read the text (which... how could he not have seen that she had read the text?) he didn't bother trying to explain himself or apologize further, which had just convinced Elodie that she was right to not reply. Plus, hadn't he been the one to ask her if she was free? Part of her, the most petulant part of her, felt like she wished he had never asked her in the first place.

But then again... Cullen hadn't been the one to get her hopes up by asking to meet casually. Elodie had done that all on her own. From the little head tilt she'd seen him indulge in, the magnetism she'd felt in the moment, to the shower she'd taken immediately after, she had wanted to see him more than anything. In the quiet moments, the times when she felt a phantom vibration from her phone, she knew she wasn't even mad.

Elodie knew that she missed him, and that she was being ridiculous by ignoring him. But she also couldn't just let it go.

She dragged her hands down her face and sat up, folding the map back up to shove in the glovebox as she did so. A heavy hand on her shoulder gave her pause. Elodie looked up and to her left, glancing at The Iron Bull even though he was keeping his eye on the road. He gave her shoulder a squeeze, right on her collarbone. She grit her teeth against the initial pain, and when the Qunari released her she felt a rush of soft, pleasant tinglings flood the area he'd gripped.

She was tense. She knew he felt it too.

"Whatever happened, you gotta air it out elsewhere," Bull said quietly. Varric and Sera were still busy discussing terms of their bet in the back, and Elodie wasn't sure they'd heard. Bull turned to her, glancing quickly between Elodie and the empty road before him. "We need you here, Boss."

Elodie could feel her brow knitting, could feel the expression of annoyance seeping into her features... but Bull was right. She nodded, glancing back out the window, watching as the asphalt beneath their tires began to slowly crumble into dirt and gravel up ahead. She couldn't endanger herself and her teammates because she was hung up over a text.

* * *

It had not taken long to threaten the warring thugs in the outlands into submission. Elodie and her party arrived back at Skyhold after lunch. There were plenty of hours left in the day, although it was almost impossible to tell. A storm that had started earlier than morning had plunged the world into an endless gray-streaked mist, a perpetual evening darkness that made Elodie's ears droop. Sera seemed unaffected, and had to be told to close her window multiple times as they sped down the highway.

Elodie had been the one to drive back. She'd offered because she knew she was probably their safest driver should they hydroplane, and also for an excuse not to look at her phone now that the mission was over. She was feeling more herself after meeting some refugees in the area. She still felt off-balance, but less so.

Upon parking in front of the hotel, Varric and Sera got out of the car and made a run for it. Elodie figured that her Qunari friend would also step out and make a break for it once he unbuckled, but Bull stayed sitting where he was. Elodie couldn't really see what he was looking at since his eyepatch side was to her, but when Sera pulled Varric into a puddle outside, Bull's chest hitched like he'd laughed. Maybe he was staring straight ahead, just like she was, waiting for one of them to talk.

Elodie broke first.

"Before you say anything," Elodie blurted, nervous even though she didn't have any need to be, "I just want to apologize. You were right, before, about it not being the time to be in my head. I know that, and I appreciate you telling me, and I'll work on it not happening again in the future."

"You feel better now, Boss?"

"A little," she answered, shrugging. They sat there, the white noise of the rain pattering a steady rhythm on the glass and metal surrounding them, and Elodie sighed. "Actually not really. Kind of. I don't know."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Elodie glanced over at her friend, watched him untie a knot from one of the leather necklaces he wore dangling around his neck, and then nodded. Bull tilted his head, presumably giving her the go-ahead.

"You were a spy, right?" she muttered, looking down to her lap in lieu of waiting for Bull to make eye contact. He grunted. "You know how to keep secrets?"

"If you're asking me not to tell Cullen what we talk about here, you don't need to worry," the Qunari rumbled. "He gets too flustered whenever you're brought up to carry on a decent conversation anyway."

"That's..." Elodie tucked her curls back behind her ears, letting her hands linger by the sides of her face to try to conceal the blush forming there. "Huh."

"Yeah," Bull chuckled. "Just like that."

Elodie glanced up at the windshield, willing herself to calm down. When she finally felt her cheeks stop burning, when she knew she was no longer pink, she dropped her hands away from her face and turned to pin Bull with a level gaze.

"I wasn't angry, earlier. I mean I was, but," Elodie fluffed her bangs back with one hand. "I'm not angry, underneath that. I'm..."

The Iron Bull waited for her to finish, and she finally swallowed hard and managed to continue.

"I think I was feeling some loneliness, and helplessness."

"Those feelings fucking suck."

"They do," Elodie said, giggling down at her hands. She flexed her fingers, pulling the implant taut against the edge of her skin, its green light shimmering through the dermis. Her smile fell away. "He's never not going to be busy," she said quietly.

"Mmm," Bull nodded. "Probably not. It comes with the job, and with the demons."

"I mean I get that. I really do," Elodie laughed sardonically, feeling frustrated to the point of derisiveness. "I'm the Inquisitor, for Maker's sake."

"Mmhmm."

"So then, knowing that he's always busy, and I'm always busy, then how will there ever be time for..." she paused, swallowed, and tried to figure out how best to phrase it how she meant. After a few seconds, Elodie gave up and just waved her hand in front of her heart. "Any of what I'm feeling?"

"You want Cullen to make the time for you, it sounds like?" The Iron Bull asked.

Elodie paused, frowning but saying nothing.

Bull simply nodded like she didn't have to and turned back to the windshield.

"Maybe he needs someone he looks up to to show him how."

They stared out into the parking lot until a convoy returned, unloading Templars and recruits onto the asphalt. Bull seemed to take that as his signal, opening the car door and stretching in the rain.

"I'm going to go find the Chargers, see who wants to lose at a game of pool," he said, his voice decidedly louder to carry over the beat of the rain outside.

He leaned over the open car door, one arm languidly resting at the top while raindrops caught on his stiffened horns of hair. In a matter of seconds, his shirt was absolutely soaked through, his piercings jutting out from beneath the transparent white cotton. He pulled a strand of hair away from his forehead, revealing his implants. The subdermal horns placed far back on his forehead looked even more inhuman in the dim natural light, but when Elodie caught his eye again the kindness therein was familiar.

Elodie smiled at him through the rain, nodding her thanks. Bull returned the expression, tapped the car's roof, then straightened.

"Don't stay out in the rain too long, Boss."

Before she could answer, he shut the door and jogged over to where Rylen was directing a group down towards the entrance of Skyhold. Elodie grabbed her backpack with a sigh, trying to get a grip on herself before she had to run out into the cool shower. Ready to sprint for it, she exited the Surefoot and made for the other entrance to the main lobby.

* * *

It was a difficult thing, coming to grips with her own expectations and working to change them. Elodie hadn't realized she'd been holding Cullen to such a standard, and not really bothering to do the same for herself, but now that Bull had pointed it out she couldn't _not_ see it. It wasn't intentional, had never been intentional, but that didn't make her feel any better about it. Elodie found herself in her room, pacing, wondering about whether or not there had been a time where she had reached out to Cullen without him having made the first move himself.

When she'd agreed to meet him last night, he had been the one to ask her. When she'd called him to sing him through his withdrawal pain, he'd been the one to send her snaps asking for help in the only way he could. When she'd asked him to stay with her until her fever broke, he had already been texting her and then sitting up with her to help her recover. Flipping through all of their significant interactions, the ones that made her heart swell, Elodie realized that Cullen was reaching and reaching for her in little gestures...

And here she was questioning if he would be able to make time for her, if this turned to something more.

Her stomach churning in a combination of guilt and restless energy, Elodie stood up abruptly from where she had been sitting at the edge of her bed. She moved over to her laptop in the corner, double clicked her music folder, and turned her volume up. She had some work to do.

* * *

_C_Rutherford 10:19pm_

**_Did you come by my office earlier?_ **

_El'assan 10:19pm_

**_Depends. Did you find my present yet?_ **

_C_Rutherford 10:19pm_

**_It's why I'm texting._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:19pm_

**_You could have told me you were going to drop by._ **

_El'assan 10:20pm_

**_Nah. You had training drills until late, Leliana said. So I figured I would just leave that there for you to find whenever you finished._ **

_El'assan 10:20pm_

**_I mean, unless you're upset I went in when you were out. The door was unlocked, I thought it was okay._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:20pm_

**_No, it's not that. You're always welcome, I just wasn't there to see you._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:20pm_

**_I thought you might not have wanted me there to see you._ **

_El'assan 10:20pm_

**_Oh no, Cullen. The opposite. But I know you're busy._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:20pm_

**_All the same, you didn't have to do this. The satin ribbons are a bit excessive._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:21pm_

**_Seriously, Elodie, I'll never be able to listen to all of this._ **

_El'assan 10:21pm_

**_Sure you will! Two USBs worth is just the good stuff I have lol, not even all my music._ **

_El'assan 10:21pm_

**_And I happen to think the bows are very cute, Commander. I thought you liked red?_ **

_C_Rutherford 10:21pm_

**_I do._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:23pm_

**_So. Any suggestions for where to start?_ **

_C_Rutherford 10:23pm_

**_Like... maybe tell me the songs that you sang to me the other night, so I could listen to them now?_ **

_El'assan 10:25pm_

**_I'm sure you'll find them soon enough on your own._ **

_El'assan 10:25pm_

**_I'm not going to ruin the surprise ;)_ **

_C_Rutherford 10:25pm_

**_There's another surprise now?_ **

_El'assan 10:25pm_

**_In fact, I'm going to go right to sleep so as not to hinder you from your rest and relaxation!_ **

_C_Rutherford 10:25pm_

**_How convenient for you :)_ **

_El'assan 10:26pm_

**_I think that's the first time I've gotten a smiley from you, Commander!_ **

_C_Rutherford 10:26pm_

**_There's a first time for everything I suppose, Inquisitor._**

_El'assan 10:26pm_

**_[sent an image]_ **

_C_Rutherford10:27pm_

**_Oh_ **

_C_Rutherford10:27pm_

**_Are we not limiting our selfies to Snapchat anymore?_ **

_El'assan 10:27pm_

**_Goodnight Cullen_ **

* * *

_C_Rutherford 12:13am_

**_I found the playlists. Is there any reason why you titled them the way that you did?_ **

_C_Rutherford 12:13am_

**_Did you want me to find them and miss you? Because if so, you should know you've succeeded._ **

_C_Rutherford 12:13am_

**_Sorry. Ignore that. I hope this doesn't wake you._**

_C_Rutherford 12:15am_

**_Anyway, listening to the one titled "Recovery Vibes" now._**

* * *

_C_Rutherford 1:39am_

**_I'm glad I listened to that one first. However, now I know that I prefer your versions of those songs to the real things._ **

_C_Rutherford 1:40am_

**_[sent an image]_ **

_C_Rutherford 1:40am_

**_Sleep well, Elodie._**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elodie H.A.L.T.-ed herself before she fault-ed herself... no? Fuck it, I tried. Please do better than me in the comments ^^; If you're interested to know what moved the Commander I can try to put the playlists I have in mind together haha
> 
> **Okay going to pause the soft-apocalypse AU here to tell you a mini story about The Iron Bull!!**
> 
> So after I beat the game with Elodie, naturally I made a few other Quizzies. In-game, I forgot I had a multiple romance mod on for Bull with a different Inquisitor, I just didn't uncheck it by accident in Mod Manager. I went back to grab a screenshot of Elodie at Skyhold, but when I had her talk to Bull it triggered the romance scene. Yknow, the one where he's in the bed in her quarters like, "You rang?"
> 
> Flabbergasted, Elodie was like, "Oh. No."
> 
> Bull went, "Oh shit, that's cool, whoops."
> 
> And overall it was a funny, almost cringe-worthy reaction. In-game it was really satisfying. So I like to think that they'd interact as real good friends because of how sitcom-y that one scene was, no matter if I'm writing them in-universe or in an AU ^^


	17. He Just Doesn't Like Clubs Okay?

For some reason, Elodie thought that briefing on the mission at hand would be much more long and drawn out than it was. Josephine, Leliana, Cullen, and she spent maybe a half an hour running through the important family members of the two opposing syndicates they would be encountering that night. It seemed the advisors were satisfied they'd already hit all the important information in previous meetings leading up to this one. The bare facts were still laid out before them, spanning about a dozen files, several folders worth of icognito recon photos, and two large blueprints unrolled across the table's surface, but Elodie didn't feel that she needed to peruse each one. She knew the basic players by heart.

Celene, heiress to a hotel fortune and businesswoman only when it suited her needs; Gaspard, errant cousin who chose joining the military straight out of highschool and who moved out of Orlais as a dishonorably-discharged veteran; and Briala, advocate for the marginalized people in the city while simultaneously rumored to be involved in the suspicious deaths of several of her own protesters.

These three coming together meant disaster under the best of circumstances, but tonight was rigged for the worst. Celene was the primary heir to a family of well-known senators and businessmen. Gaspard had been disgraced, and after Celene took over what had essentially been his place as underboss, the cousin had left overseas for several years. Some whispered he was Black Ops. Some said he was a lowdown merc. There were rumors that Celene would be bumped off should someone not bluster up a presence at her ‘family party’.

The Inquisition was going to bluster.

The opportunity for sabotage and heroism cropped up when Celene decided to throw Gaspard a welcome home party from his last stint overseas. The press for the event claimed he was a contractor, but Elodie even had to raise an eyebrow at that when she glanced over his extensive military record before being dishonorably discharged. Regardless, Celene felt he deserved a fete since he was coming home, and everyone in Orlais was in a tizzy over it.

The heiress would pour drinks down his throat and hope he didn’t come for her position of power within the family. The merc would drink the drinks and hope Celene wouldn’t cut him off from the family investments until after he usurped her. The elf… Elodie had yet to figure out Briala. But she left a bad feeling in the pit of Elodie’s gut just the same.

“It’s been a while since I’ve played the Game,” Leliana said once they’d been over the floor plan of the club this was supposed to take place in. “But Briala will reveal herself if we prod her in the right way.”

Josephine nodded gravely, but Elodie was still preoccupied with the dance floor blueprint before her.

“Two bars on the second floor, and a rooftop bar to boot?” she mumbled. “You’ll all be so spaced out. So far.”

“We’ll be taking shifts on the second floor bar by the windows,” Cullen said, tapping the map with his index finger. “Find us there, we’ll await your signal.”

She glanced up at him, surprised that he'd responded. She didn't realize until then that she’d said anything out loud.

“Oh. Good.”

“Are you nervous, Inquisitor?” Leliana asked.

Elodie couldn’t tell by her tone if she were poking fun or seriously asking, so she smirked in response.

“Oh no. I’ve had to dance my way out of more dangerous places than this.”

Cullen cleared his throat and turned away, bringing his hand up a little too late to cover his blush. The Antivan at his side covered her mouth, stifling a smile.

“Will you be dancing at the event itself, then?” Josephine asked. “When did you have time to practice? You were ill, and then out trying to get to the Wardens in the Appro—”

“I don’t need practice. And I’ll only dance if I have to,” Elodie answered. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to it. I don’t want to scar poor Cullen any worse than it seems I already have.”

It was Leliana’s turn to giggle.

“I am not scarred,” the Commander said, narrowing his eyes at her over his shoulder. “I was merely… reacquainting myself with the bar layout and drink menu.”

He gestured to where each advisor had their portait pinned to the corkboard taped on the wall. Beside each of the trio was a menu of what they would be making that night.

Elodie walked around the glass war table, moving to where she could sit on the edge right by Cullen’s hip. He ran a hand through his hair, but didn’t move away. Behind her, Josephine was talking to Leliana about what they were going to wear, and something that her sister had texted her earlier that morning.

“It says you need to know how to mix tequila sunrises, Jack and Cokes, and then it just has a list of shots,” she said by way of conversation. He didn't answer. Elodie nudged Cullen's shoulder with her own. “You got off easy.”

Cullen seemed less than relieved. He gave a huffing sigh.

"Not sure how to mix a tequila sunrise?" Elodie asked, trying to joke with him until he talked to her. She could see a muscle in Cullen's jaw jump as he bit back his response. "Cullen?"

“It's not that. It's..." he paused, his eyes searching the drink menu as if it would provide him answers. "When I’m behind the bar, I’m supposed to be gathering intel and making small talk. When I’m not behind the bar, I’m supposed to be watching your back. I’ll let you guess which one I’d rather be doing,” he said dryly.

Elodie bit her lip and very softly elbowed Cullen’s arm.

“Why Commander, I’m flattered.”

“I… oh,” he muttered as her meaning dawned on him. He nudged her back with his shoulder as he crossed his arms, but Elodie could still see his smile out of the corner of her eye. “Impudent.”

“What?”

“That’s what you are, Inquisitor. Impudent.”

“Imp— oh please, Cullen. I think we've moved past such formalities. You can just say I caught you flirting.”

He gave her a small chuckle, one that was decidedly more dull than Elodie had hoped for, and she glanced over at him in earnest once more.

“Are you going to be okay though? Really?”

“I’ll be fine,” Cullen said, giving a shrug. “I don’t like clubs, but when the heiress to half of Orlais asks you to come to her most exclusive soiree, you don’t really get to say no.”

“It might be fun. I hear we get to be formally announced and everything.”

“Andraste preserve us.”

“You aren’t even a little bit excited?” Elodie asked.

She certainly was. She had been trying to picture what Cullen would wear all week, to no avail. She couldn’t picture him in anything besides his regular clothes.

This was excluding his workout clothes, of course, which Elodie didn’t count for herself either. Her Par Vollen sports bra was revealing in a different way than the outfit she had been given for tonight. She reasoned that Cullen _must_ have something else to wear too, something fit for the allure and intrigue of the lavish night club they'd be blending into.

No matter what, though, she could only picture Cullen in his fur-lined North Face with his kevlar slightly visible beneath. Even when he’d taken care of her sick in bed, he’d still been outfitted the same. Elodie didn’t know what to expect in the next couple of hours, and the anticipation thrilled her. She was going to see a different side of Cullen, hopefully a side that included bare forearms to suit the balmy spring air. Maybe an undone button or two at the collar.

If he showed up in his damned jacket, Elodie reasoned that she could not be held accountable for her actions as she tore it off of him.

She blinked up at Cullen, realizing he’d been quiet for a long time without answering. Elodie could feel herself blushing, but she still smiled.

“I’m kind of looking forward to it,” she whispered.

He seemed oddly heartened by that. He turned to her, his expression melting from brittle annoyance into something resembling tenderness.

Or maybe that was just the overhead lighting.

Either way, Elodie knew if she stayed there, she was going to lean on his shoulder and then Leliana and Josephine would grow suspicious... even though they likely were already. Time to leave. Elodie reached over and gave Cullen's arm a reassuring squeeze directly on his biceps before she turned back to the other advisors. Josephine was scrolling through her phone and Leliana was holding one hand over her mouth in shock.

“I knew she’d end up pregnant soon, but _immediately?_ ” the redhead whispered.

“Who’s pregnant?” Elodie asked, grateful for the distraction.

“Nobody you know,” Josephine said, immediately clicking off her phone screen as if she were embarrassed to be caught gossiping. She cleared her throat daintily. “Anyway, if everyone’s alright with this, we could end the meeting here. Leliana and I are going to get our nails done before tonight.”

“Sounds good to me. I have to go meet Vivienne and Cassandra for our makeup as soon as we finish up here,” Elodie said, and she couldn’t help but grin back at Josephine when the Antivan gave a little golf-clap of approval.

“I’m excited to see your entire look, Inquisitor.”

Josephine turned off the computer screens at the back, and Leliana moved to the door. Files were left askew on the table, everyone too eager to leave and get on with the night to be bothered to clean up after themselves. Elodie frowned, then hung back.

“You all go ahead, I’ll close up,” she said.

Leliana and Josephine nodded and made their way to the door, and Elodie reached out to organize some of the papers. She was collecting files they’d spread over the table when she felt a large, gentle palm at the small of her back. Straightening, she tried not to flush further at Cullen’s touch.

“C-Commander?”

“Do you need any help?” he asked, his own voice a bit shaky, a little unsure.

Elodie blinked as she got used to his proximity, trying to keep from saying what she had on her mind.

If she said yes, and he stayed down here with her to clean up while the others left, it would not be good. It wasn't that she didn't want to be alone with him, it was exactly the contrary. She wanted nothing more than alone time with Cullen, especially after the sleepy, bedhead selfie he'd sent her the other night as a thank you for the playlists. Given the opportunity, Elodie knew she'd risk delaying them both by pulling Cullen's hands tighter around her waist and reaching up to run both hands through his mess of curls. Better not to fall into that temptation. Elodie flushed at the mere thought of it.

If they were going to get close,  _physically close,_ Elodie didn't want it to be on the forefront of a huge mission like this. She wanted it to be meaningful.

Which is why she didn't say a damn thing.

She blinked, realized that Cullen was pulling files closer with his free hand and definitely not letting her go. When she looked up at him, his skin was flushed light pink and his gaze was averted, but she didn't get the impression that he was uncomfortable. It would be so easy to lean over and rest her forehead on his shoulder-

“Actually, I uh…" she shook her head, sending her curls tumbling as she fought for control over her instincts. "No. I’ll leave with you all, now that I think about it. I’ll have someone grab up the reports so that we can go get ready.”

“To work, then,” Cullen said, keeping his hand in place as they turned together.

He led Elodie from the war room as if it were the most natural thing for his hand to be at the small of her back, and Elodie wished she’d worn something other than a ratty tshirt to the war meeting. Through the thin fabric, she could feel every flex of his fingers over her skin, and it teased her to no end. She wondered if the other two advisors were aware, if they were judging. She didn't care... but she didn't want to explain herself either.

Luckily for them, Leliana and Josephine had fallen back into their previous conversation and were whispering in a way that suggested they were trying their hardest to look inconspicuous. Elodie didn't think they'd noticed her current predicament. Rather, at the very least it seemed were going to pretend that they hadn't, in order to spare her. They looked up as if surprised to see Elodie leaving so soon.

"Not staying after all?" Leliana asked, her eyes narrowed.

"No, I'll uh..." Elodie stood a bit straighter, hyper-aware of how Cullen's thumb drew over her spine in a slow circle. She swallowed, then added, "Later."

Josephine and Leliana shared a quick glance, one Elodie wasn't sure she'd caught, and then the redhead moved to the door while Josie busied herself looking anywhere else. Elodie pushed Cullen gently out of the doorway, following him, wishing she didn't have to separate from the connection. Josephine was turned to the side, tapping something onto the screen.

As Leliana locked up, Cullen moved his hand across the small of Elodie's back, eliciting a delightful jump in her pulse. He gave Elodie a small squeeze right at the dip of her waist before he let her go completely. It was so light, Elodie wondered if she had imagined it. By the time she realized that it was just like the reassuring gesture she’d given to him, Cullen was already turned away to leave.

“See you tonight,” he said, a general goodbye as he walked away. Elodie waved at his back, but he was in a hurry and did not see. When she turned back to her other advisors, Josephine was once again holding one hand over her mouth to hide a smile, and Leliana was looking on with an unfazed eyebrow raise.

“He… doesn’t like clubs,” Elodie said lamely.

As if that was a sufficient farewell, she turned heel and left in the opposite direction to go find Vivienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sure Elodie, that must be it, we [totally believe you](http://www.reactiongifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/yea-k.gif).


	18. It's Gonna Be A Long Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer chapter, too, if we're being honest. And it's just the beginning.
> 
> And it is absolutely ridiculous haha ^^;; just be forewarned. Like, the thought of the upkeep on a place like this, just the thought alone, is stressful lol. But I guess if you can afford it... that's the point...
> 
> Sigh. Orlesians =_=*

The outfit that Vivienne’s stylist had chosen was not exactly the most revealing thing Elodie had ever worn. However, even if they were counting her time as a poledancer in the Free Marches, it came close. But all the same, even if it was less fabric than she preferred, Elodie knew she would not refuse it. The garment was gorgeous, one that she knew was all the rage in Orlais at the moment; she would not stand out in any negative way in this.

And to be honest, as a Dalish elf who was used to standing out on her own terms, that made Elodie feel uncomfortably vulnerable.

The clothing she’d been given was a simple black dress made of stretchy lycra, sewn in a way that reminded Elodie of bandages being wrapped around her torso. A morbid thought for so pretty a dress. The shape was simple, with a solid cloth body and a sweetheart neckline that she would have to stick with doublesided tape to the tops of her breasts. Diamond dusted the tips of the neckline and faded down over her breasts, as if starlight were dribbling from the heavens onto her waist.

The back was laced up like a corset with a satin ribbon over a sturdy boned panel that spanned the entire breadth of Elodie's ribcage, with a circular curve beneath each breast to further outline the sweetheart neckline. Padding was hidden between the darts, as if they'd taken into account Elodie's lack of curves. The support within the dress was most likely to aid with her posture, and was invisible underneath of the bandage pattern the fabric was sewn in. When cinched tightly, the pattern of the fabric and the tying of the corset narrowed her waist and gave the illusion of cleavage where Elodie had none.

She hoped it was forgiving should she have to sprint anywhere tonight. It was lovely, but she was not above asking Cassandra to slice it open up the back to let her breathe.

The dress fabric itself had no pattern, but throughout the weave there were silver metallic threads and glass beads that sparkled like random constellations whenever Elodie moved. Apparently, under a blacklight, her dress would light up like a starry night sky. She couldn’t wait to try it out, but she wished it could have been slightly longer around the thighs.

When Elodie asked if she could wear a jacket over it, the stylist looked as if she were having a stroke, so Elodie dropped the issue. She could grin and bear it.

Hanin did her makeup and hair in record time, finishing before the other makeup artist had coaxed Cassandra into curling her own eyelashes. Elodie didn’t tear up when she saw her polished look this time.

She felt no sentimentality looking at her made up face. Now, it felt like war paint.

When she slid her arms through the slinky tube of fabric and shimmied her way into the dress, it was as unfamiliar as putting on new body armor before breaking it in. When Hanin tied her up in it, she patted the boning around her ribcage much like she patted sparring gear to make sure it was fitted to her body well enough to absorb impact. The damn thing stopped at her thighs, barely below their apex, and when she bent over to test a few dance moves she could see in the mirror that she was just shy of scandalous. Luckily the dress was stretchy and forgiving, and besides the weird corseting around her middle, she felt decently comfortable in it.

Her hair was another story. It was drawn up away from her neck into a messy pile of curls that involved way too many hairpins, leaving her ears exposed. Silvery threaded extensions were woven through her loose braids and curled ringlets, giving her shiny tresses even more opportunity to catch the light. However, when Elodie shook her head violently, nothing came loose or pinched. She had to admire the craftsmanship.

“Your ears we’re leaving obvious and open,” Hanin said, waving a hand over the area near her ear. Like Elodie wouldn’t know what he was talking about unless he did the gesture. “You’ve got beautiful shape to them.”

“Got them from my father, what can I say,” Elodie muttered, a bit uncomfortable. Hanin’s ears were smaller than hers, barely pointed. When she was younger, how she’d envied ears like his. She straightened in her seat and he gave her a playful wave like he wanted to swat her.

“So what we’re going to do is have you put in these studs. You’ve got all these unused piercing holes. Are they all still open?”

“They are,” Elodie said. “I usually keep clear plastic ones in them, they get in the way less often and I don’t have to worry about losing a few when I sleep.”

“Well, you be a bit more careful with these,” Hanin said, placing diamond studs into her earlobes as Elodie closed her eyes. "Courtesy of Madame de Fer."

Six on her right, eight on her left. Elodie struggled to adjust to the weight of them on her lobes.

“They’re different sizes, so they’ll catch the light in different ways. One of them has a chain linked to another one lower down, you let me know if it’s too heavy or if it hurts while I give your nails a clear gloss of paint.”

“Hey,” she caught Hanin's hand in hers before he could go over to his makeup kit. He looked down at her, worried, and Elodie gave a nervous smile. “I appreciate you doing this for me.”

His gaze softened, and Elodie wished oddly that she had known him before all of this.

“You’re going to kill it out there,” he promised. Elodie prayed he wasn’t being literal, or making a morbid pun. He smirked. “Especially when you see what shoes I got for you.”

“The stylist didn’t pick the shoes?”

“She tried, but she was wrong,” Hanin said, winking. "And before you ask, I broke them in with some frozen bags of water as best I could, and got them a size bigger so I could put some gel insoles by the ball of your feet."

"Shit. You have an amazing eye for detail, you've thought of everything."

He gave her hand a little pulse and then let it go to run to his makeup bag.

“I’ll have you out of here in the next hour. Just enough time for you to get some food in you while you hydrate.”

“Good thinking. In case there’s a fight,” she agreed.

“Or in case there’s a good drink special,” he chuckled.

“Oh I won’t be drinking tonight,” Elodie said hurriedly. “Don’t worry.”

“Honey,” Hanin said quietly, bent over a giant tacklebox filled with foundation, brushes, eyeshadow pallettes, and vials of loose glitter. “It’s the Winter Palace. I know you’re going for work, but you need to try to enjoy yourself a bit. Who knows when another—” he cut himself off, clenching his jaw, and Elodie suppressed a gasp.

He meant well, she reminded herself. He didn't mean to insinuate that she was just another elf being granted a grand opportunity. Still, the tips of her ears burned, and she wished she could cover them with her curls like she usually did.

Hanin sniffed, and finished, “Who knows when another woman who could rival you in beauty would ever be invited back.”

“Nice save.”

“Thanks, I thought so too.”

“Alright,” Elodie conceded, nerves beginning to flutter in the pit of her stomach. “I’ll… enjoy it. Or try to.”

Hanin came back with a tiny bottle of clear nail polish that he shook in one hand. He reached for her with the other and gripped it tightly.

“That’s the spirit.”

* * *

It was already late in the evening by the time they left to go to the club, but Elodie knew that was the way these things went. Dorian, Bull, and Sera had abandoned her to go to a club just down the street from the Winter Palace, and they told her to hit them up when she was done with the ‘Family Business bullshit’. She knew it was a front for them to be around should she need backup, but still wished she could be with them instead.

Vivienne was not going to help Elodie sneak around at the party herself, but had gone along ahead to distract the aunt of the heiress. The aunt just happened to also be the financier of the whole shindig and could prove to be a valuable social asset in the long run.

Solas had promised to meet Elodie at the club itself, but said something about having to get into character first. When pressed, he merely glanced at Elodie’s outfit and said that she looked ‘very true to form’. For some reason it felt like an insult, and she had left him feeling less than stellar about everything.

Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen had agreed during the briefing that they would just meet there, so Elodie didn’t even seek them out once she was in her costume. After it all came down to it, Varric and Cassandra were the only ones stuck in Elodie’s car.

“Do not say a word,” Cassandra warned the dwarf as he got into the backseat.

She had her arms crossed over her blood-red peplum blouse, her waist cinched with a wide, rose-gold belt. The blouse bared her shoulders, elastic around the underside of her arms keeping the wide neckline in place as she moved, and the only accessories Cassandra had chosen for herself were a handful of rose-gold leaves that she'd clipped into her hair and a long, delicate golden pendant that dangled a single humanoid tooth at its end. She crossed her legs, the black pleather leggings swishing softly as she did so.

“You’re looking lovely tonight, ladies,” Varric retorted, blatantly ignoring Cassandra’s request. “Toffee, you’ve got glitter on your uh…” he paused, narrowing his eyes instead of looking down at Elodie’s chest that had been dusted with what looked like crushed diamonds. “Everywhere,” he finished.

Elodie stopped fixing the windshield wiper, tapped it down to the windshield with a sharp clack, and got in the car. She shut the door pointedly.

“And you’re showing more chest hair than usual, Varric. Smear a bit of honey on there and you’ll positively be a woman-trap waiting to be laid out in the wild.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he laughed. “Is this it for our party?”

“Others are meeting us there.”

“Who’s others?”

“Vivienne and Solas. Cole’s staying in with Blackwall, says that loud music hurts too much. Blackwall said he’ll probably just put some movies on and try to get some sleep.”

“The Wardens news must have hit him a bit hard, eh?”

“Yeah,” Elodie backed out of the parking lot and turned to go get on the highway. “I wanted to give him some time to himself and away from the media. Plus, I don’t think clubs are his scene.”

“They’re not mine either,” both Varric and Cassandra said at the same time, one still sounding more cheerful than the other. Elodie gave a little noise she hoped her friends would think was a laugh.

“I know, I know.” She paused, then blurted, “But you two know me so well, I wanted you here to ground me. This… this face I’m putting on. These heels, this makeup, this hair. You know it’s a look someone made for me. A mask.”

“All the Orlesians will wear masks tonight,” Cassandra said quietly. “So you will fit right in.”

“I mean, figuratively, yeah, we all wear masks,” Elodie said exasperatedly, “But I was more alluding to-”

“No, they literally wear masks,” the Seeker said, turning to Elodie as they merged onto the highway. “Masquerade style over the eyes. Usually disposable, black or silver or some other neutral color. They hand them out at the door to most clubs and venues.”

“Th-then why are we wearing all this makeup?” Elodie asked. She didn’t mind, but it was definitely not something she would have picked to sit through herself had the other option been to grab a disposable half-mask for the evening. “If we’re covering it with a mask, what’s the point?”

“We will not wear the ones they give us.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Cassandra said firmly. “We’re all faces of the Inquisition.”

“Elodie’s probably more aware of that than anyone,” Varric interrupted. He paused to let it sink in, and then commented, “Maybe that’s why Vivienne had you wear what you’re wearing on your face, Seeker. It’s not hiding who you are, but you'll have an extra layer between you and the Orlesians.”

“I don’t disagree with you, Varric,” Cassandra said. “And originally, I think that’s why I hated the makeup so much. I don’t really _want_ a mask at all, personally.”

“Yeah… if I had been put it in that light, maybe I’d have reacted differently too,” Elodie allowed, glancing over to her friend as streetlights lit her in a steady beat of light and dark. “But metaphors aside, how do you feel about the makeup now?”

“Now, I think I like it more. People can still see my facial expressions, there is not so much caked on that I cannot move my lips. And… Vivienne tried to cater to our likes and dislikes as best she could.” Cassandra blinked hard, as if she couldn’t believe she were saying it. “I have to respect that, even if I would not normally show my face in public with this much lipstick.”

“For what it’s worth,” Varric piped up, leaning forward between the seats a bit, “I think you look very nice.”

“Oh shut up,” Cassandra snapped, but Elodie could see in the side mirror that she turned to the window and hid a tiny smile at the compliment. Varric sat back, snickering.

“How pissed off do you think Vivienne would get if I asked to do a makeup trial next time?”

Elodie turned up the radio over Cassandra’s disgusted noise and Varric’s subsequent laughter.

* * *

They had to park in a lot that was further away than she’d anticipated. Walking to the Winter Palace nightclub in the chilly spring night, with her legs barely covered by her lilac trenchcoat, Elodie wished she could’ve thought to drop her companions off before making the trek back. She was needlessly putting them through the walk, too.

They didn't seem even half as fazed as her, however. Cassandra had her own coat slung loosely about her shoulders, and Varric had foregone even putting his on in the first place. Gritting her teeth against the way her knees were starting to knock together, either out of nerves or out of chilliness, Elodie said nothing about it.

Finally, after a ten minuute walk, the trio rounded the corner and heard the telltale beat of bass that signaled she was nearing the club. At first, that energy alone gave her a thrill of warmth and recognition, but that was even before she saw the club itself.

It was enormous. She'd known to expect a three story building, and she’d reviewed blueprints suggesting there was a large basement area spanning not only underneath of the club but the building next door, but seeing it... seeing it was something else.

They weren’t sure what the club would need such vast basement storage space for, especially seeing as there should be more than enough room in something that spanned the length of two factory floors, but that was one of the reasons why they were here. The club itself was a converted mansion that the city had bought out when a residential area had been reconstructed into a warehouse district, and then into a commercialized bar and tourism scene. The owners had, for some strange reason, decided to leave lawn features like a circle driveway, a water fountain, and carved topiary bushes out in front of the building. It gave the impression that you were going to a party at a rich friend’s house, not a bar you had to pay to get into. Elodie suppressed a nervous giggle at the sight.

The doorway was flanked by two looping staircases that led to some rooftop seating areas, with chairs angled out towards the street. Beyond that, there were columns that stretched up and supported a balcony above the actual entrance. Elodie could hear layered EDM from inside, could see fog spilling lazily out of the second floor balcony, and could smell cigarettes and expensive cologne. Bodies moved in and out of the many verandas and walkways as if they were spirits, their shadows and smoke silhouetted against the building, and it made her shiver.

“Woof,” Varric said, and they crossed the gate to a chorus of gasps.

It was quiet at first, just a murmur that Elodie found easy to ignore. But then participants grew bold. They didn't recognize her, could not see the little badges the trio had in their coat pockets to signal that they worked for the Inquisition. All they saw was a human, a dwarf, and a Dalish elf.

“Ugh. Look at how she’s flaunting her ears,” someone whispered.

“More like flaunting everything,” another replied. “Fucking Dalish for you."

"Andraste's tits, who let the rabbit in?”

Elodie had to reach out to grab Cassandra’s arm hard and prevent her friend from throttling whoever it was.

“Don’t. They’re watching us,” Elodie breathed, drawing Cassandra near.

“I know how to play the Game,” Cassandra said, jerking her forearm from Elodie’s fingers. “They are nobody that anyone would miss the teeth of.”

“Then they’re nobody worth hitting anyway,” Elodie argued.

Cassandra growled.

“I’m going inside to find Cullen. He, at least, will let me bounce who I see fit. Varric?”

“Right there with you,” Varric replied, sidestepping around someone who was asking a valet about her car. "Come on Toffee, let's go."

"We're supposed to wait here for Josephine, I thought."

A moment of hesitation, one where her friends' expressions were unreadable and the crowd's snickering was all too audible.

"Suit yourself," Varric said, turning to follow Cassandra, who had not stopped at all on her push to the door. "I'll tell her you're here if I find her."

Elodie tried not to let her friends’ abandonment sting; they were just nervous, like she was, and trying to get on with it so that this evening could be over already. She would do better to try for the same.

She turned around, taking in the general splendor with a mental snapshot to keep for later. She knew that she would never be back.

People were sitting in various waiting areas, and bouncers had long lists clipped to boards that they were checking and double checking whenever people begged to get inside. Sometimes people would rock up and immediately be recognized as some local celebrity or another, and they would be welcomed and the red velvet rope would be unclipped.

But that was rare.

For the most part, people were being denied at the gate. The milling crowd of people would line up, get distracted by people they knew milling about near the smoking terminals, and then they’d line up again. It reminded Elodie of a bunch of children, in a weird way, all trying to fight with the line-leader before they got to go to recess.

She assumed anyway. Being homeschooled meant she'd never experienced this kind of frantic anxiety until she was an adult. But still, it conjured up the image all the same.

Elodie stood on her tiptoes and caught sight of her companions finally reaching the doorway. Varric and Cassandra held up their Inquisition badges as they walked through, little chips on a laminated ID that could scan if necessary and bring up their credentials for the organization. The bouncers glanced them over and then let them in, much to the dismay of the crowd.

Elodie moved to the side and glanced back at the city behind her to try and slow her breathing before she followed them. She didn't really want to wait for Josephine, was kind of confused on the details of whether or not she was supposed to in the first place, and she knew she'd never figure it out if she panicked. Elodie took a deep breath in, let it out slow, and took careful stock of her surroundings.

Skyscrapers crowded in on them, giving the impression that this mansion was actually a temporally displaced building from another dimension. It didn’t fit. It was like standing in the middle of a dream without realizing you were dreaming, two juxtaposed places coming together in a clash of style all at once. The goldfoil on the moulding of the mansion's columns by the entryway, the colored LEDs on the lawn casting warm glows on the water from the fountain, the shrubbery cut into elaborate trompe-l’oeuils that looked like floating cubes and spheres linked together… it didn’t make visual sense in the middle of a metal and mirror city.

And maybe that was the appeal.

The Winter Palace was otherworldly, garish, and gorgeous. It was a fairy-realm of glitter and expensive champagne, an escape from the modern world into something elegant and removed. It was a place where luxury was the dish of choice, where you felt at home even as you drank down golden flakes of champagne.

Inside Elodie assumed it was more of the same, but even without going in she knew that they employed the best DJs this side of Thedas. She’d heard Leliana reminiscing about a time she’d worked with one who’d be on deck tonight, about how seamlessly he could edit six tracks at a time according to requests and not bat an eye. She could hear noises escaping when she flicked her ears this way or that, sometimes catching more mutterings and sometimes just barely hearing the strains of music from indoors.

Elodie clued in to a song she recognized, and she decided that was a sign; it was time to actually move in towards the palace itself.

She began to weave back through the crowd, ignoring comments about her ears along with a series of ugly catcalls. Hugging her trenchcoat closer to herself, her implant vibrating with nervous energy in her palm as she did so, Elodie tried to make one final push through to the bouncer and velvet rope.

She felt the crowd inhale, one collective gasp, and then someone cleared their throat behind her. She whirled, straight postured and ready to defend herself if need be, but she would not have to. Elodie was met with a handsome man in a cream silk shirt with a brown vest overtop of it. He looked like a prince from a fairytale, even as his hands glimmered with holographic gauntlets.

Just one more out of place thing here, and yet somehow he fit right in.

“Inquisitor Lavellan, I presume?” the man said, only his strong jaw visible beneath the mask he wore.

“Yes,” Elodie extended her hand, and he took it in his to bring it up for a kiss. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this evening?”

“Lieutenant Colonel Gaspard de Chalons,” he replied. “And the pleasure is all mine.”

“Forgive me,” Elodie said quietly, giving a small dip of her head. “I should have recognized you, Lieutenant Colonel. I’m not used to seeing past the masks just yet.”

“I daresay you will grow accustomed to it quickly,” Gaspard chuckled. “You will have a time of it tonight if you do not.”

“That’s true. To be frank, I was wondering how you’d even manage to find me in the chaos, mask or no,” Elodie answered, tilting her head as the man in front of her straightened his shoulders and smirked.

The half-mask he was wearing was made of lacquered gold lace. She could see light eyes dancing beneath it. His chin bore a neat five o’clock shadow, one that must have been planned since the morning, and he had a short, military cropped haircut that suited him. He looked… younger somehow, in person, than he did from their recon pictures. Maybe it was the mask? Gaspard offered her his arm and she took it, bringing her other hand up to rest on his forearm.

“You look ravishing tonight. Everyone who has any sense at all will be drawn to you like moths to a flame,” he lowered his voice, “mask or no.”

“Careful,” Elodie said. She raised an eyebrow at the bouncers that were keeping a crowd of people from taking their picture as they walked by. “People seeing you with a Dalish elf? Could be dangerous.”

“I always had a morbid fascination with danger, my dear,” he answered, his tone hungry. Elodie felt her stomach grow heavy. She didn’t particularly like these attentions, but she had to stay on his good side. She grit her teeth, hoping that her makeup would hide how stern she could feel her face becoming.

“Indulge in it, then, sir,” she answered as they neared the door and she could finally make out someone she recognized. “I’m here for you should you get yourself into trouble.”

“Honored to have you at my side, Inquisitor,” he murmured. And then, with a quick kiss pressed firmly to the back of her hand, Gaspard released her at the entrance. “Do enjoy the party.”

Elodie nodded at him and then was alone once more, just past the velvet rope. Behind her, people called her name and claimed to be with her, and she turned to where Josephine was rushing over.

She could see flashes of cameras, lights from peoples’ phones, and she made an effort to put on a neutral and pleased face. As they snapped photo after photo, Elodie prayed the sparkly shadows on her lids would help hide the trepidation in her eyes. She reached for Josephine and caught both her hands in hers.

“Elodie,” the Antivan gasped, her voice low beneath the crowd’s posturing. “I saw you get held up and rushed over as soon as I could. Why didn’t you show your badge to the bouncers?”

“There wasn’t really any room for me to get close to them before Gaspard found me,” Elodie said. She realized her hands were shaking and she clenched them hard around her friend’s fingers. Josephine held her back just as tightly. “Shall we?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. I just want to get inside,” she insisted.

“Okay. Just… remember to watch what you say, who you say it to, and when you say anything to begin with.”

“I got it,” Elodie said, trying to put on a relaxed face. Josephine reached out and unhooked a stray curl from where it had gotten caught on Elodie's delicate chain from earring to earring. Elodie tried not to wince at the sensitivity in her lobes.

“This will be fine,” Josephine murmured, as if she were trying to convince herself. “Everything will be fine.”

* * *

The inside was more than she could have ever imagined from the blueprints. It was high ceilings, dark in an alluring way, lit up from above with sparkling LEDs inlaid into the ceiling itself to give the illusion of stars that sparkled and glowed in time to the music’s swells and dips. Fabric hung from hooks where the ceiling met the walls, softening all the edges as if the room were surrounded by clouds. The first floor was the dance floor, and it was packed full.

Elodie hadn’t even realized there were this many people in Orlais. For a moment, she stood, frozen. Was this a night club, or a music festival? How did so many people congregate in one place without causing trouble? Elodie answered her own question as she glanced around, taking note of the bouncers posted at every doorway.

“They’re going to introduce us, so we have to walk across the stage. Let me take your coat,” Josephine insisted.

“I have to walk in front of everyone?” Elodie hissed.

“We all do. You knew about getting announced, do not give me that face.”

Elodie bit back an even angrier pout and tried to relax her forehead.

“That’s better,” Josephine said. “Now. Let me take your coat and I will go and fetch the others.”

Elodie froze, trying to gather herself. _Count the tiles_ , she thought, _keep your face relaxed_. The floor looked like they had somehow built computer screens underneath of a layer of resin, so that galaxies and a fluid night sky were beneath the feet of the dancers as they moved. It gave her a touch of vertigo, and that dizziness was enough to focus on instead of the nerves she felt at being forced to put on a show for the Orlesians. She shrugged out of her coat and Josephine gave another gasp.

“Oh my heavens,” she murmured. “Your dress…”

“It’s practically painted on, I know,” Elodie rushed to complain, feeling insecure and somehow low.

“No. Well I mean yes, but it’s gorgeous.”

“You think so?”

“I truly do. The cut is very flattering, and I like the detail sparkles. It is the height of the fashion in Orlais right now,” Josephine said, insisting that it was perfectly normal for Elodie to be showing that much leg in polite company. “And those heels… they're to die for."

"Hanin picked them out for me," Elodie said, turning to show how the crushed-quartz stilettos sparkled even in the dim lighting.

"They're fantastic. Can you walk easily in them?”

“I spent a week breaking them in. I can dance all night,” Elodie lied, hoping Josephine wouldn’t call her bluff. The shoes were comfortable enough, for now.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to,” the Antivan said, and then she had floated off to the coat check and the stairs leading to the second floor. Elodie ruffled her fingers gently through her bangs, trying not to disturb the clipped-in strands of silver thread that Hanin had woven into her curls.

Elodie watched as people drank and mingled beneath the crash of shimmering light and sound, and she remembered that she liked this atmosphere. Set aside the bloody history between the current human families and the Elven syndicates that once held land all throughout Orlais, and it was just another dance scene. There was nothing to be nervous about. She could do this.

“Alright, I have them,” Josephine said, rushing up with Varric and Cassandra. Behind them stood Vivienne, Leliana, and Cullen. "So as I was just saying to Elodie-"

Vivienne was stunning in a pure white satin wrap dress that cut low across her chest. The neckline opened practically down to her navel, but somehow still managed to leave much to the imagination. Her dark skin glowed in the soft lighting, highlights of dusted gold accentuating her high cheekbones and toned arms. She was a goddess, and her expression said that she knew it.

Leliana was wearing a lacy camisole with low-slung, ripped black jorts, and her staple black scarf was gone in lieu of a bare decollete. Elodie marveled at never having seen her friend’s neck exposed before. Her arms were covered with leather and metal bracelets of various design, and there was a little treble clef tattoo peeking out from underneath the strap of her top, just beneath Leliana’s left collarbone. Her hair was the same, maybe slightly shinier, and she had a beautiful silver dragon cuff earring clipped to the entirety of her right ear. It made Elodie ache just looking at the heavy metal attached to the lobe.

Granted, the ladies were impressive… but it was Cullen that made Elodie’s jaw drop open. He had foregone his North Face jacket in lieu of something sleeker for the night.

Cullen wore dark jeans, a gray v-neck shirt, and a black blazer he had left unbuttoned. His hair was tousled just so, styled so that a few strands fell down in front of his forehead, and he had on a few necklaces that rested in the center of his chest, layered beautifully in a way that drew one’s eyes down towards the dip of his abdomen. As she drank him in, Elodie was suffused with a rich, spiced, almost earthy scent. She blinked when the realization hit her.

Cullen was wearing cologne. Cullen never wore cologne.

Breathing in deeply, she was beginning to wonder if one could get drunk on an aroma alone when she remembered that people could see her. She glazed her expression over into a slightly interested face of neutrality, hoping that Cullen had seen her previous, more visceral reaction.

But Cullen had yet to even notice her. It kind of stung, how oblivious he was. He hadn’t even glanced at her since he walked up.

Elodie gave Vivienne a compliment on her dress, trying not to look obvious as she put a hand on her hip and waited for Cullen to say something to her. Surely he would be just as surprised as she had been at him, would be just as impressed. He was preoccupied arguing with Leliana over sniper nests outside the club, but when he finally looked up at Elodie his eyes widened in shock.

“You…” his mouth formed the word, but she couldn’t hear it over the music. For several beats, there was nothing except the electric pounding of her heart in time with the tempo of the song. Elodie’s eyes stayed trained on his as she watched Cullen glance her makeup and hair once over, as if he too were drinking her in.

She wondered if he could see her heart pounding against her ribcage, if the corset of the dress exposed that secret reaction to the world along with the tops of her diamond-brushed breasts. But Cullen didn’t even look down towards her chest for an instant. He seemed to still be marveling at her hair and ears and neck, his eyes devoid of anything but surprise.

They might have stayed frozen that way for longer had Cassandra not cleared her throat pointedly.

Cullen glanced down, then away, back up so that he could find her eyes, and Elodie couldn’t tell if he approved of or hated the dress. She resisted the urge to adjust it lower over her thighs. He kept her gaze, but said nothing. His jaw clenched, and she knew she must have looked hurt.

_Say something, damn you,_ she whispered in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t tell if she was talking to Cullen or to herself.

“Inquisitor,” Josephine said, jostling her from her thoughts, and Elodie cleared her throat.

"Sorry, what were you talking about?"

“We’re apparently to be introduced,” Cassandra said, not sounding too happy about it. “Who will be going first?”

“Just go as they call you. Walk across the dance floor, and then acknowledge Celene. She’ll be in the DJ booth at the other side of the floor, waving to you and the crowd.”

“That’s it?” Cullen asked, his voice rough. “Why bother with this? Why not go say hello to her now while she’s just on the other side?”

“She wants a show,” Vivienne insisted. “We are here to give her a show.”

“Maker’s breath,” the Commander cursed, turning and running a hand over the nape of his neck.

Elodie caught another whiff of the spiced cologne, and she wondered if he had bought it especially for this occasion. Or had he tucked it away from months prior, never having had a special occasion to wear it to before now?

She swallowed hard and tried to remember the task at hand.

“Get ready,” Josephine said. “I’ve been given the signal.”

“How?” Elodie asked. Josephine turned and tapped a little plastic bit she had in her ear. Elodie noticed her nails were a rich gelled burgundy with little gold chevron accents. They matched the skintight golden pencil skirt Josephine had tucked her gauzy white blouse into.

“I’m in with the PR for the event. I have my ear to the ground, so to speak.”

“And I’ve got my ear in the skies,” Leliana said, motioning to her dragon cuff. Her nails were black and silver marbling. “I’ve got a few agents on the staff keeping me updated on the second floor.”

Elodie looked closer, and it was true; Leliana’s earring was gaudy and big in order to conceal a little clear plastic piece she had tucked inside of her ear canal. She gave Elodie a wink, and then gestured for her to move to the front of their group.

“Mesdames et monsieurs,” the DJ interrupted over the loud speakers, making all but Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana flinch. “The moment you have been waiting for has arrived. Please clear the floor, for we have been graced with some very special guests for the night. Allow me to introduce the distinguished members of the Inquisition!”

A round of cautious applause, and the announcer launched right into it.

“Please put your hands together for our guest of honor, our beloved countryman and esteemed war hero back home from his years overseas, Lieutenant Colonel Gaspard de Chalons!"

"Are we ignoring how he was dishonorably discharged, then?" Cassandra muttered under her breath. Elodie mentally agreed, but said nothing.

In front of her, from a corner where he had been speaking to what looked like some of the bouncers, Gaspard moved forward. He turned, blowing Elodie a little kiss that everyone was sure to have caught. He certainly did like danger, she concluded, barely able to contain her eye roll. He walked across the floor to a chorus of cheers and patriotic shouts, bowed to Celene past the DJ booth, and then stepped off to the side.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. We have some very special guests tonight in order to honor our very special guest."

Everyone around her laughed, but Elodie could not think past the lump of anxiety trapped in the back of her throat.

"Allow me to introduce the leader of the Inquisition, savior of the innocent, destroyer of corruption all over Thedas: the lovely, elegant, Inquisitor Elodie Sulahna Lavellan!”

A spotlight trained on her, and Elodie blinked only once before familiarity burgeoned in her blood. She had done more than this before. She had been on stage in less clothing than this before. She had owned it then, she would own it now, regardless of how the world saw her and judged her.

This was nothing.

“Come on down,” the voice urged, and Elodie could no longer see anyone outside of the spotlight. The room had gone quiet, and there were no cheers to be heard. from either side came small gasps, whispers, comments, and even some jeers.

But then she began to walk.

The crowd seemed to respond innately, someone starting a round of applause that grew and grew to a blasting crescendo as Elodie smiled seductively into the light. She knew her lips held the promise of pleasure, but her eyes held the promise of murder, and that was a potent combination that not many could resist.

It was confidence. Elodie radiated killer confidence.

She was going to obliterate them with the surety in her step, the clarity of her cadence, and they would be all the weaker for it. Each footfall reminded her why she was here: Celene wanted a show. And each footfall reminded her of who she was: a Lavellan, a Dalish elf who wasn’t very good at being Dalish, and now a leader of the strangest authority in Thedas.

One foot in front of the other, head held high, her heels clicking across the dance floor with steady rhythm, Elodie made her way down along with the spotlight. She could hear a soft pulse of a beat behind the applause, and she allowed her hips to find the rhythm as she made her way across the floor to where she knew Celene wanted her. _Keep steady_ , she willed her ankles. _Keep those shoulders straight. Almost there._

At the very end of the walk, the music swelled, a signal for her to stay where she was, and Elodie turned in a circle and waved to the crowd. They cheered even louder in response, and there were no more cries of ‘rabbit’ or ‘knife-ear’. After a second of absorbing the empty praise, Elodie turned to the DJ booth and blew a kiss to the heiress she couldn’t quite see outlined beyond the spotlight. Elodie could just barely make out a wave in return, and then a secondary light was turned beyond her and up to her companions.

“Accompanying the Inquisitor, allow me to introduce Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Callogera Philomena-” a scuffle behind the mic, as if someone had interrupted the DJ. Elodie watched as Cassandra strode over to her, a stoic look on her face.

Below the Seeker’s feet, the LED floors were rippling in an effect that followed her feet, casting stardust trails like moving water behind Cassandra as she walked. Elodie wondered if the floor had done the same for her when she’d crossed it.

“Ahem! Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to Senator Markus of Nevarra, nine times removed.”

“I hate this,” Cassandra whispered through gritted teeth when she got up beside Elodie.

“Just wave,” Elodie said. Applause drowned them out as the beat swelled once more and then dipped back down to quiet the crowd.

“Renowned author Varric Tethras,” the announcer said. “Representative of Kirkwall’s finest, and a member the Dwarven Electronics Maintenance Guild.”

Varric took his time, urging the crowd on as he walked with various waves and flexes. One girl beside Elodie squealed and asked her friend if he would be signing anything. Elodie had to bite back a laugh when she heard one pretty young thing gushing about his open collar.

“Toffee, you owe me bigtime,” Varric said under his breath as he walked up and waved to Celene.

“Hush, you’re obviously a pro at this,” Elodie shot back.

“Madame Vivienne de Fer,” the announcer said, and before he could finish the crowd went absolutely wild.

Looking back to where she’d left her companions, Elodie could see Vivienne slowly striding forward, looking almost as if she were being pulled along on a track, so smoothly did she move. Her shoulders were straight, her neck tall and proud, and she looked remarkably dangerous and inviting at the same time.

When the crowd died down, the announcer continued, “Head of de Fer modeling agency, CEO of the Orlesian Bionics Circle of Research and Development, and everyone’s favorite local celebrity.”

“You are too much, darling,” Elodie could see Vivienne mouth, and she finally made her way over to the rest of the team. “Smile you three,” Vivienne said upon nearing them. “This is all part of the show, and your first act is almost finished.”

“And let us not forget our guest bartenders for the evening,” the announcer said.

Elodie swallowed hard and contemplated turning away, but she was too curious.

She wanted to see how Cullen walked.

All three of the advisors were manifesting nervousness in their own ways across the empty dance floor as they waited to be called. Cullen held himself rigid, as if under inspection. Leliana’s eyes were glazed over, her dark purple lips painted into a neutral pout that gave nothing away. Jopsehine bore a magnanimous smile and waved as if she were a contestant in a pageant, her billowy lace peasant sleeves opening like gauzy angel wings as she turned. The DJ turned the music up just a tad, as if to hint to the trio that they should relax as they were announced. Elodie smiled at the thought.

“Please welcome Cullen Rutherford, former militant Commander of the Templars in Kirkwall. I believe I speak for all of us when I say that this is one Templar who can command me any day.”

Cullen’s brow twitched, his expression darkening, as the crowd seemed to agree with the DJ. The screams of drunken praise were overwhelming. Still, he stood there enduring it, waiting until the trio was done so that they could all cross together at the same time. His eyes met with her companions’ but he seemed to deliberately avoid Elodie’s gaze. She tried not to seem as if that had interested her in the first place, but it stung. Was he that nervous that he couldn’t look at her? Or was it something else?

“Next up, we have Leliana, our local resident bartender come home to roost for the night. Did you know she actually got her start mixing drinks and breaking hearts at the bar off of Seventh?” Elodie had not known that. “Well. Now she’s here to ruffle your feathers, boys and girls, and if we’re quite lucky she might even grace us with a little song.”

“We shall see,” Leliana mouthed with a smile, one that made Elodie shudder when the lights dipped low and cast shadows across her cheeks.

“And last, but never least, our lovely Lady Josephine. She is the oldest of the Montilyet siblings up in Antiva, and always a welcome ambassador in the halls of Orlais. Gild this one with gold, folks, because she will absolutely never go out of style.”

Josephine beamed out at the audience, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she gave a pretty wave to the crowd.

The applause grew to a deafening roar as the trio made their way over at the same time, and Elodie even brought her hands up to join in the cheer. The three of them looked professional, unattainable, and very alluring. They were sure to be inundated with people looking to get drinks throughout the night, and even Elodie herself wanted to see them in action.

She tried to refocus. The information they would gather because of that would be helpful. That was the only reason she had to be eager, and she needn’t forget it.

“These amazing volunteers are here to provide our number one special sweetheart, our very own Celene, with the night of her life as she welcomes home her cousin Gaspard from the war,” the DJ called. Cries of Orlesian patriotism swelled around them, making Elodie wince. “So be sure to visit them and request their personal recommendations as you sip yourselves into a stupor.”

A cheer, a few choruses of whoops, and the trio of advisors took their place by Elodie’s side. It was almost finished.

“Alright everyone, are you ready to get loud?”

Everyone shouted back, and even Vivienne raised an arm to the ceiling as she grinned.

“I said are you ready to get loud!”

Deafening shouts, the music upping in tempo. Elodie joined in, mirroring the way she saw Celene swaying.

“Then let’s! Get! Loud!”

The music crashed in on them like a wave, and three bouncers came down into the dance floor from a staircase leading the DJ booth in order to lead the Inquisition representatives away and to the side.

People flooded the floor, moving as if they were all one with each other under the illusion of stars, and the bouncers who had grabbed the Inquisition party began to thread them through the people as if they were running through a maze. It felt unreal, to be pushed and pulled until she was safely on the outskirts of the dance floor. Elodie ended up near a floor length window coated in flickering LEDs.

A moment to breathe. Elodie glanced around, but she had been separated from her companions. No matter, they all had different positions to take up and different roles to fulfill tonight anyway. She supposed she’d find them all eventually.

Elodie felt a vibration against her thigh, then another, and another, all from the garter where she was keeping her phone strapped to her thigh in a protective case. She dipped away from where a bouncer was already breaking up a drunken fistfight, and she finally caught sight of her party. Her advisors were being ushered away, presumably to their positions at the bar and around the second floor, and Cassandra was moving in Elodie's direction. Elodie furtively pulled her phone from beneath her dress and clicked the screen brightness on her phone to its lowest setting. She read her messages as Cassandra took her elbow and led her to a dark corner.

_Nightingale 10:13pm_

**_You did well, Inquisitor._ **

_JosieMo 10:13am_

**_Yay Elodie! First part’s over!_ **

_Nightingale 10:13pm_

**_Don’t you think so, Cullen?_ **

_C_Rutherford 10:13pm_

**_If you need me, my first shift’s from 10:30 to 11:30._ **

_Nightingale 10:14pm_

**_Commander, lighten up or you’ll get no tips tonight._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:14pm_

**_Wait, what?_ **

_C_Rutherford 10:14pm_

**_Oh. Of course the Inquisitor did well._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:14pm_

**_I was just going to tell her so, but you beat us all to it._ **

_JoseiMo 10:14pm_

**_Leliana be nice_ **

_Nightingale 10:15pm_

**_Josephine I am always nice_ **

_C_Rutherford 10:15pm_

**_Right well I’m putting my phone away now, you all have fun being cryptic and contrary. If I get a spare second I’ll text any info I get._ **

Elodie could almost picture the flustered way Cullen was gripping his phone as the texts flew out in a volley. She wondered absentmindedly what Leliana had meant by the unnecessary goad, but it relaxed her to see the group chat so natural. They were still her advisors, even dressed differently and not wearing their weapons. For all she knew, they were still carrying concealed, and that thought was a comfort as well.

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra said, moving close to her ear. “I will wait for your signal over by the window. Someone who had a brother in my former unit wishes to speak with me. I shouldn’t be long.”

“I’ll come find you later,” Elodie promised, swaying slightly to the beat behind her. She turned back to her phone when her friend left.

_Nightingale 10:15pm_

**_Find me some good secrets if you can. Semi-related, did you see Persimmon Drury’s shoes???_ **

_El’assan 10:15pm_

**_Why are you all texting in the group, aren’t you all together?_ **

_Nightingale 10:15pm_

**_No. Josephine went to go find her sister, and I’m over mingling by some museum benefactors. Cullen’s getting prepped for his bar shift._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:16pm_

**_As prepped as one can be for not knowing anything about tending bar._ **

_C_Rutherford 10:16pm_

**_If anyone orders anything complicated they are getting a shot of bourbon and a glare._ **

Elodie laughed out loud at that and clicked off her phone. She was determined to mingle for a bit, possibly so that she could make her way over to the bar where Cullen was without arousing suspicion. She wanted to get a chance to talk to him before the night got wilder, and this sounded like it was the perfect opportunity. Readjusting her dress down her thighs just a smidge, Elodie began to roam the club, her ears pricked for secretive whispers beneath the booming bass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my chapters for this story try to focus instead on little dialogues or interactions, but I couldn't resist being extra descriptive during the initial Halamshiral scene. Rocking up to that for the first time in-game is such an experience, and Elodie was honestly expecting the worst. I'm pretty happy with how simultaneously impressed and confused she is.
> 
> Hope you got a pretty word-painting out of it, and the next few Halamshenanigans chapters might be of a similar tone. It makes me wanna tell you everything I'm picturing. And with a three story club, there is a lot to picture ;)
> 
> I want all of the outfits I imagined them in, too. Just as an aside.


	19. Self-conscious Sweethearts Wish For Sweats And Slippers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told y'all I was titling based on Scrivener chapter titles, and I'm holding myself to it. Originally there was a chat between Cullen and Elodie about how they wanted to be in sweatpants instead, but it got scrapped in lieu of this.
> 
> I don't think y'all will mind though <3

As it turns out, there wasn’t time for Elodie to go see Cullen during his first shift at the bar. She and Cassandra, as they were scouting out for hors d’oevres and whispers, had gotten distracted. Elodie had overheard talk from elven staff of a virus-ridden server being prepped in the basement, and that led to further conversation with frightening workers. While following that lead, they'd noted that several caterers had been going missing through the early stages of the party, which also accounted for their lack of snacks. Forsaking the canape platters, they’d snuck off with Varric and Vivienne in tow in order to investigate the underground rooms beyond the nightclub itself.

With help from the tech savvy enchantress, they had managed to sneak downstairs and gather a flash drive of code, but here had been nothing else on it besides hints of treachery among the Orlesian celebutantes. It wasn’t even clear if the code belonged to Celene herself, or her cousin Gaspard, or the elusive Briala. So far it was nothing to alert the authorities over. They would have to keep looking.

Only a few of the rooms had been available for snooping through anyway, so the party headed towards the dance floor before they broke off.

When they got back to the main hall their absence was commented on. Elodie realized how careful she was going to have to be, what with ducking in and out. Part of her wished that she smoked, so she could have that as an excuse. People would start to do more than talk if she was too obvious about her breaks, and she didn’t exactly feel prepared to take on any suspicious mercs dressed how she was.

“I’m going to go find food,” Cassandra said. “And contemplate how much I hate Orlesian politics.”

“Try not to have too much fun,” Varric answered as she left in a huff. He turned to Elodie. “I’m off too. Going to regale some nerds with stories of the Guild, and hope that one of them commissions another issue of Swords and Shields.”

“Commissions?” Elodie asked, watching him turn to go past the dance floor. “You didn’t write the original for fun?”

“I never told you?” Varric asked. “My romance series was written as a gift to a friend. Never would’ve tried the genre on my own otherwise. Which is why I didn’t start on the next portion until you bugged me about it. Keeping with tradition.”

“Huh.” Elodie smiled, turning to Vivienne. “I never knew that, did you?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t had the time necessary to devote to one of Master Tethras’s novels just yet,” she replied.

“You would like the cop serial,” Varric said, toasting with his soda water as he left. “Murder and mayhem, just might remind you of Orlais.”

“Mmm.” Elodie watched Varric leave, and then turned to lower her voice. "I like the romance novels better."

“How are you doing, darling?” Vivienne asked Elodie, glossing over all talks of books.

“I…” Elodie paused, a bit surprised at the question. “I’m okay.”

“Good. Because Florianne just texted and asked for a dance with you.”

“Florianne…” another heiress, with a smaller fortune. Sister to Gaspard. Not yet introduced, beyond the scope of her recon file anyway. Elodie shook her head. “She wants to dance with me?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Vivienne said. “You’re here as an honored guest. That means if someone wants the spotlight, they want you.”

Elodie still had difficulty wrapping her head around a famous heiress wanting to willingly affiliate herself with someone Dalish. But alright. She nodded to show Vivienne she understood.

“After you finish a song or two, just read the atmosphere to see how long you should stay out there for. If Florianne is entertaining you, stay out. If conversation dwindles, duck back here. When you finish, come find me. Solas is looking to speak with you, and I’d like to be there when he does.”

“Solas is here?” Elodie blurted, unable to hide the surprise in her tone. “But he didn’t say hi to me yet, and he wasn’t introduced.”

Vivienne hushed her with a look.

“He’s one of the waitstaff.” Vivienne sighed. “You’re one of the only elves they’d knowingly let in here that aren’t waiters, bartenders, or cleaning crew.”

“Huh,” Elodie tried not to bristle at the phrasing, or the annoying fact that it was a true statement. “Then why did he come?”

“Who am I, darling, that he would confide that reason in me?”

“I see.” Elodie frowned to herself, then regained her neutral, engaged expression. “I’ll go find Florianne.”

“Good luck, my dear.”

* * *

It wasn’t as hard as Elodie had expected, finding the cousin to the heiress on the dance floor. The woman, dressed in a short, fluttery gown that had a lace winged pattern cut in gold along her back, was being watched by a single bodyguard. As Elodie approached, the crowd parted and Florianne shooed the bodyguard away.

“My dear Lavellan,” the woman cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness over the energetic thump of music. “Come, we must share a dance.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Elodie said, extending her hand.

“I’m sure it would be,” Florianne put on a sickeningly sweet smile. “It’s not every day a Dalish elf is allowed into the Winter Palace.”

Elodie swallowed, trying to keep her expression neutral. She wasn't wrong. Florianne made a noise, like she’d forgotten something amusing.

“At least, not unless they’re a part of the after-hours blacklight show.”

The implant in her hand felt heavy, but Elodie resisted balling her fingers into fists. She kept her hand out, smiled graciously, and nodded.

"We do tend to be on the entertainers' side of things... at least at affairs such as this," she said carefully.

"Entertainers? Is that what your kind calls the oldest profession? How delightful," Florianne chuckled.

Elodie bit her lip as Florianne shook her hand and held it a second longer.

"So. Go on, Inquisitor. How does my cousin's club compare to the finery a Dalish elf is used to?"

“I was excited to see it in person, and it does not disappoint,” Elodie said quietly, or as quietly as the music would allow anyway.

“Many will say the same about you, you know.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Elodie replied, “but thank you for the comparison all the same.”

Satisfied with the response, Florianne lifted their joined hands towards the strobe-filled ceiling. She and Elodie moved together to a spot in the center of the floor, weaving in and out as lights played across the crowd.

The smells were intoxicating, as if not just the usual stale cigarette smoke and faint whiff of perfume and sweat colored the air; this scent was darker, like everyone had been required to adhere to a certain range of perfumes, made to mingle together on the dance floor into one heady mixture.

Hell. For all she knew, that was what Orlesian clubs required, along with their ridiculous masks. Elodie took in a deep breath and took the lead in the dance.

Florianne moved in close, and Elodie felt her hand at her shoulder to keep her in place.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, you know.”

“Am I?” Elodie asked, providing a frame for the woman to swirl and dip in. The woman was surprisingly flexible. “Is that what you brought me here to say?”

“No. I merely want you to know what you’re getting into.”

She grabbed Elodie’s hips and forced them to swing wider, to circle together, and Elodie responded by bringing her hands up above her head and moving in time to the pace Florianne set. The music swelled, as did the gossip around them.

“One misstep, one slip up, one unfortunate wardrobe malfunction, and you'd be finished,” Florianne hinted meanly. Elodie’s brow knit together, and she had to fight to not break Florianne’s grip on instinct. "But I'm sure you're used to those, aren't you?"

The heiress gave a laugh, shouting over the music.

“I will be keeping my clothes on tonight,” Elodie replied coldly, earning her a glare of suspicion from a nearby dancer.

"How unfortunate for us all."

"I'm well aware of how Orlesians expect tonight to go," Elodie said. "I wouldn't want to interrupt the festivities, by any means."

“Are you sure you know what we're anticipating tonight? I think you’re missing a few key pieces of the puzzle, my dear Inquisitor.”

“So enlighten me.”

“And ruin the fun?” Florianne laughed, releasing her, and Elodie closed her eyes to bring her body around in a twist. Florianne, somewhere behind her, shouted, “That would hardly be good sportsmanship!”

The dance ended quicker than Elodie expected, the conversation merely a step forward then a step back as they said vague nonsense to one another and hinted at the machinations of the night. Mentally readying herself, Elodie gave Florianne a head tilt to signal she’d stay out if the other woman wished it.

But just like that, they were done.

Florianne was already leaving, waving at Elodie as she went. Elodie blew a kiss to her partner as Florianne walked back to the bodyguard, and once the heiress’s back was turned she left the floor with a forced smile plastered onto her face. Bringing her phone out from a garter case she wore high up on her thigh, just underneath the hem of her dress, Elodie clicked through her messages. Only one stood out to her, and it was not in the group chat.

_C_Rutherford 11:45pm_

**_I’m by the windows on the second floor. You busy?_ **

_C_Rutherford 11:51pm_

**_If you’re free, please come see me._ **

Immediately, Elodie typed out a reply, hoping she wasn’t too late.

_El’assan 12:02am_

**_Sorry, I was in the middle of a meeting. You still by the windows?_ **

_C_Rutherford 12:02am_

**_Yes. Hurry._ **

She wove her way out through the crowd, past a photobooth with shimmery light-up curtains made from fiber optic thread, past a counter set up with an ice luge, past an area for taking professional photos against a white and gold backdrop cloth with the Winter Palace logo on it. As she neared the top of the steps leading to the second floor, she could see a gaggle of people by the windows. Was that where Cullen said he was?

“Commander,” someone cooed, “you look positively dashing tonight.”

Elodie's right ear pricked to her four-o'clock, listening harder.

“Thank you,” Cullen replied, his voice neutral.

She turned, honing in on where the voices were coming from. There was a semi-circle gathered around a standing table by one of the larger windows, everyone all aflutter over... something. Elodie moved forward, her heels beating out a click for every nervous heartbeat pulsing through her veins.

“Your hair is so incredibly interesting, Commander,” another woman purred from the circle. “I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks? Or do you have to hairspray it to keep it so perfect for hours on end?”

“A mystery for the ages, I’m afraid,” Cullen avoided.

“Are you waiting on someone?” a man asked. “If not, we could go dance for a while.”

“No, but… well, kind of. I'm not... available."

"We could still dance?"

"No, thank you, I don’t dance,” Cullen said immediately, and as she slowed in her approach, Elodie understood.

The semi-circle of people had cornered her Commander. He was holding what looked to be a plain tonic water with a lime on its edge, nursing the drink contents in lieu of having to speak to anyone more than necessary. He replied with a curt politeness that she knew was meant to put distance between himself and his admirers, but that the admirers were just taking as further encouragement.

Well, if he needed saving, Elodie was definitely fine with being the one to do it.

“Commander Cullen,” she called, walking up and parting the crowd with ease. She wore a stern look, one of stoic concentration, and the crowd immediately grew quiet. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all night.”

“I just… I was taking a break, Inquisitor,” Cullen replied, his eyes steady on hers. For a second, he stood straighter, his eyes widening with almost imperceptible anxiety. Did he really think he was being reprimanded?

"I came as soon as I could," Elodie hinted, hoping Cullen would realize he wasn't actually in trouble. His eyes stayed fixed on hers, but after a beat his facial expression softened into one of understanding. Still, Cullen refused to look away from her face. She wondered if he was trying to keep from glancing down at her dress again.

“Understood. Do you wish to confer now?”

“Yes,” she answered. She glanced at the crowd, who were none too carefully attempting to conceal their collective disappointment. “But I won’t keep you long.”

“By all means,” he said, moving towards her to offer his arm. “Lead the way.”

They moved towards one of the balconies, much to the dismay of the others surrounding him. They walked slowly, their strides barely contained, as if both of them wanted to break out into a run but had too strong a sense of decorum to do so. However, once outside, Cullen shut the door carefully behind them and let out a long sigh of relief. He stayed there for a moment, both hands resting on the door as if someone were about to try to shoulder their way in after him.

“Thank you, Inquisitor.”

“Not at all. I don't mind you owing me one, Commander."

"Hmph."

"Rough time tonight?”

Cullen pushed away from the door, turning to give Elodie a half-lidded look of annoyance. She knew it wasn’t directed at her, so it just made her smile wider.

“I’ve been trapped there making small talk ever since I got off shift. A few people followed me over from the bar and just have not gotten the hint. I thought having Josephine down there at the bar after me would attract more people, seeing as she’s better at making cocktails than I am.”

“I don’t think people were following you for your drinkmaking skills, Commander,” Elodie giggled. He blushed, brushing his hair back with one hand and looking off into the night.

“Mmm. It appears not.”

"You're not alone, you know," Elodie muttered bitterly.

She could still hear the stinging barbs Florianne had thrown on the dance floor. Self-consciously, she tugged her dress down lower over her thighs so that she would not use both hands to cover her ears. If she had to choose which was on display, her body or her ears, she wished the latter were covered completely by her curls.

"If they're not staring at you, they are at me," she continued. "And I don't wish that on either of us."

"Understood. It's why I've been trying not to," Cullen said swiftly.

For a second, Elodie thought she'd misinterpreted.

"T-trying not to stare at me?"

"Yes. However beautiful you are, you're not a piece of meat."

Elodie turned, wide eyed, and the Commander seemed to realize what he'd admitted. He grit his teeth together as he threw his gaze out over the balcony, like he wanted to clamp his jaw shut on anymore comments that could be taken the wrong way. It was still sweet, in its own right.

They fell still, both taking a breather while they could. Elodie wondered if Cullen was embarrassed or if he was comfortable. Was he regretting having asked her to take him away? Cullen broke the silence with a small, breathless chuckle.

“What is it?” Elodie asked.

“Nothing. It’s just… Near the end of my shift, I was so desperate to get away that I just started giving people a simple cup of water, no matter what they ordered. Otherwise the drink orders would have piled over onto Josephine. People were getting so pissed, I thought they wouldn't follow me after.”

“Wow,” Elodie burst, on the verge of laughter as well. “So did they pay for the water like they would have their cocktails?”

“No. I didn’t charge them for it.” Cullen sighed laboriously. “Maker knows a few of them should have thanked me. They could’ve used the reprieve from the alcohol. It’s not even midnight.”

"It is," she corrected, reaching out to turn Cullen's wrist over in her hand and glance at his watch. "It's past midnight, in fact."

His hand clenched reflexively as she ran her fingertips across his pulse, and Elodie dropped his wrist.

"Damn."

"Yep. I'm afraid you've missed your opportunity to rush home, Cinderella."

"Maker help us if I get hold of a pumpkin, because then I'm out of here."

“You’re ridiculous, you know,” Elodie teased, nudging his arm with her elbow. "Not for the wanting to go home, but the water thing."

“Everyone thinks I’m joking or being humble, but I’m actually not good at the things I say I’m not good at. That includes tending bar.” Cullen shook his head with a playful smirk. “Shocking, I know.”

“Well, you know, so long as you’re having fun,” Elodie said sarcastically.

He scoffed.

“Are you not relishing their attentions?” Elodie goaded, moving them to the railing to overlook the city across from them.

Cullen shot her a sharp look at her teasing.

“Hardly. Anyway,” he lowered his voice and cleared his throat. “Yours is the only attention worth having tonight.”

Elodie laughed. She couldn’t help it. But she also leaned onto him, nudging his shoulder with hers and keeping in close contact. He shifted his weight, like he was going to move away from her, and she reached out to catch her hand in the crook of his elbow to keep him leaning on the railing with her.

“And you have it,” Elodie replied, her heartbeat fluttering with the unexpected compliment.

“For a moment, yes,” Cullen smiled warmly at her. “It seems that I do.”

"I promise I won't go around blending in with the other masked partygoers if you don't," Elodie offered playfully. "Although I wouldn't mind throwing a chair at one of the walls here, just to see what would happen."

"Are we done referencing Cinderella? We've moved on to Labyrinth now?" Cullen asked, following her as if they truly were dancing on the balcony in the quiet moment beyond the club.

"I suppose either would work. There are enough masks here to send a Goblin King into fits, anyway."

She turned so that her back was on the railing, so that she could look more fully at him as he leaned both forearms on the cool metal. Her breath created a puff of air between them, and he glanced down at her bare, glimmering shoulders. His smile fell away.

“Maker, you must be freezing out here. I didn't even think. Let’s go back inside where it’s warmer.”

“No, I want to stay for a minute.” Elodie put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not cold yet.”

“You’re not?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Elodie shrugged.

“Too many people in there, I feel warm and anxious.”

She glanced back up at Cullen, at his tousled curls. They really did look soft.

“Out here, with you, though?" Elodie shrugged happily. "I’m just warm.”

“Oh.”

Elodie paused, the words from her previous dance partner suddenly gnawing at the inside of her chest.

Was Cullen asking her to wear his blazer because he'd rather she cover up her body? Elodie swallowed hard. It wasn't often she felt this unsure of herself all in one sitting. She resisted the nauseous urge to cover her chest or pull her dress down further, to turn away from the man before her. Instead, she held herself even straighter. As a friend, he wasn't judging her, she told herself; Cullen wouldn't do that.

That thought held in her chest as well, kinder than the sharpness Florianne had left behind. It was true. Cullen was one of her friends. Elodie wasn't sure when it happened. Sometime between the late-night texts, the lullabies, and the snaps of plants around Skyhold, she assumed. In a blink of clarity, Elodie realized that Cullen was someone who she interacted with every day now, even outside of work.

And he never judged her.

"How are you?" he asked, as if on cue. She blinked in surprise and he tried to amend himself. "Sorry, you just seem to be thinking something over rather intently."

Elodie laughed, a toneless noise, and shook her head.

"I suppose I am."

"Care to share?"

"I feel..."

_Like a_ _stripper,_ she wanted to say.

But it wasn't even that. Elodie wasn't ashamed of her past, and wasn't upset at having danced in what felt like another lifetime ago. It could not be used as an insult to hurt her, not anymore and not ever.

So why was that the first thing that came to mind?

In this light, Elodie supposed, being told time and again that she should be grateful to be allowed in a place like this... it made her feel less like a person. More so than even taking her clothes off for money had made her feel. This was different, this was not her decision, it was forced and uncomfortable and laced with derision. She felt delicate and pitiful, like someone's pet. Not like the Inquisitor at all, and probably the furthest she'd felt from Elodie since she'd started this gig.

"You feel?" Cullen prompted gently.

"Not myself," Elodie finished, hating how lame it sounded even as she reached up to touch the diamonds in her ears. They lay heavy on her lobes, pulling her down. She had the vaguest sensation of vertigo, without any warning, and swayed. Immediately, Cullen's hand was at her elbow.

"Are you alright?"

"Lightheaded."

"Do you need me to loosen your dress for you?" Cullen asked, and that broke the spell Elodie was momentarily under. She laughed out loud at the request, a round noise that forced her to breathe in more fully. Elodie was positive that Cullen had meant it as a most genuine and gentlemanly request, so she held his forearm while he stuttered out an addendum. "Elodie, I didn't mean-"

"The dress is fine. For now," Elodie joked.

It did feel alright; even if it was a bit short, the fabric combined with the corset-style protection around her ribs actually gave her some extra support she appreciated. Cullen, however, looked as if he were mortified beyond measure, and Elodie struggled to come up with something to break the tension.

"Here," she mused. "Dip your head a bit lower, Commander. You've got a piece of lint on your curls."

Cullen quirked an eyebrow as he bit his lower lip, moving in hesitantly, and Elodie reached up. Before her fingertips could touch his hair, she pinned him with her gaze.

“If you don't want to be touched, Cullen, I won't touch you.”

“If it’s you,” he whispered, “it’s okay.”

Elodie let her hand fall to his temple, drawing her nails lightly against his scalp as she smoothed his hair back from his face. It didn’t listen to her coaxing; it had been styled so that it fell just so before his eyes, and it bounced back as soon as her fingertips relaxed. Cullen let his eyes fall slowly closed, as if he were enjoying the gesture more than he cared to let on, and Elodie brought her hand back down before she lost control.

"Did you get it?" Cullen whispered.

For a moment Elodie couldn't remember what it was she was supposed to have gotten. It came back to her in a flash, though, and she nodded with a smile.

“Yes. You're fuzzy-free. And... that woman back there was right, by the way,” Elodie said, her voice low and cool. “Your hair is definitely as soft as it looks.”

"Don't remind me of the audience I have to go back to," Cullen muttered.

"You don't have to go back just yet, at least."

He shook his head and looked off into the distance above her shoulder. It was like he was trying to fake being cross with her and losing. Elodie broke into a grin. He was very good at putting on serious airs, but she could see his skin growing pink even in the dark of the balcony shadows.

“Here.” Cullen shrugged out of his blazer. “If we’re to stay out here a moment longer, at least let me lend you this.”

She didn’t argue, and instead allowed Cullen to drape her shoulders with his blazer. It smelled like his cologne, spiced and sweet, and it was warm from his body. She put a hand on his bare forearm before he pulled away, felt the skin raise with goosebumps. She wondered if Cullen was actually cold, or if he was only responding to her touch.

She was getting carried away. Even this smallest touch was becoming too much to bear. Elodie cleared her throat, trying to remember her purpose here.

“Besides the unwelcome attentions, are you having any luck with information gathering?” she asked. “Any leads?”

“No, not really. I’m listening out for any potential hints as to what’s locked up in the basement area, but nothing’s come up so far."

"And of the negotiations?"

"People are either suspicious of Gaspard meeting with Celene so publicly, or willfully oblivious to what it could mean. Or they’re just drunk. There aren’t many in between.”

“Right. Well, I’ll try to keep an ear out too,” she promised. “I bet something will turn up soon.”

“Hopefully.”

He looked out over the city and the breeze ruffled his hair just so.

“You look really handsome tonight,” Elodie said. He turned to her, eyes wide in surprise.

“Y-you think so?”

“Yes,” she beamed at him, hugging the jacket around herself. “Very much so.”

“Well… thank you,” he breathed, then gave a small chuckle. “I don’t particularly like how tight this shirt is.”

Elodie glanced down and could see what he meant. Every muscle line in his chest was accentuated, save for where his waist dipped in. From there, all the way down to the belt of his jeans, the shirt hung centimeters away from the skin.

“I think it’s… fine,” she mumbled, her voice rough.

"Speaking of people who look nice tonight," Cullen added. "I was right, you know."

Elodie frowned, confused.

"When I said that nobody could hold a candle to you," he reminded her. He smiled down at Elodie in the dim light, absently smoothing his blazer down over her shoulder. He lifted his eyes back to hers. "I was absolutely right."

That was it. Elodie could feel her chin tipping up, her hands moving to his biceps. She was going to kiss him, she knew. And he was going to let her.

Regrettably, interrupting any nonverbal reply she might have had for Cullen, Elodie’s phone buzzed so hard that she flinched. She pulled it from its case on her thigh garter as Cullen glanced up at the night sky to afford her privacy.

_SeekerC 12:17am_

**_Solas foud new intel. Get downstairs when you can._ **

“Is it time?” Cullen asked. He placed his hand over hers, the one not holding her phone, and leaned in close.

Elodie forgot how to breath. She leaned forward, her lips parted, wanting to tell him yes. It was about damn time.

“Should we send word to the SWAT team?” Cullen clarified, his tone low and anxious.

“What? Oh. Right.” She freed her fingers from Cullen's and brought them up to touch to her face, checking to see if she was as warm as she felt. “No, not yet,” Elodie said, clicking her screen off and putting her phone away. “I’ve got to gather more evidence, otherwise I can’t help anyone.” She sighed, snuggling deeper into Cullen’s jacket for a minute before shedding it and handing it back. "Means we've got to go back in there."

"You're doing well, you know," Cullen said. "Just hang in there."

"I could say the same for you," she laughed.

"Pray for me instead."

Elodie straightened her dress around her thighs once more, wriggling it up a bit over her chest. It was stuck with tape to the tops of her breasts, but she still felt as if it migrated throughout the night without her permission. Cullen glanced away, avoiding even accidentally seeing her adjust it.

"Is this..." Elodie paused, swallowing the discomfort she wished she didn't feel. "Is this dress too..."

"Too what?" Cullen asked after her pause went on a bit too long.

"Too..."

_Dalish?_

"Revealing," Elodie finished halfheartedly, unwilling to even mentally admit that Florianne had shaken her with her stereotyping. Her people were  _more_ than the professions that some resorted to or chose for themselves. Elodie refused to even feel ashamed in the quiet corner of her own mind.

"I, uh," Cullen dragged a hand across the back of his neck, like he was stalling for time. He finally brought his eyes back to hers and shook his head. He grunted a soft  _huh-uh_ as he shook his head.

"You don't seem certain, Commander."

"I am," he said. "But fashion isn't a strong point of mine. You'd do better to ask Dori-"

"I was just wondering what you thought," Elodie interrupted, cutting him off with a thin-lipped grimace. "Sorry to have made you uncomfortable."

"Elodie." Cullen stopped her, meeting her gaze. She looked up at him, trying not to look torn, and Cullen's assertive stare bolstered her. "It's brave, I'll concede that much. But not in a bad way, and you," he cleared his throat, "you wear it very well, in my opinion."

"Ah."

Elodie smiled to herself. She had thought he'd disapproved of the dress, that he had been intimidated by it... or possibly worse, been disgusted by it. But now, she wondered if Cullen liked it more than he felt comfortable admitting to. Not for the first time, Elodie marveled at Cullen's almost rigid politeness, at his unwillingness to step over the line until Elodie told him he could. She reached out a hand, tapping his elbow with light fingers, grateful he was such a prince.

“Will you save a dance for me tonight, Cullen?”

“No thanks,” Cullen said as he slid his arms back into the blazer.

“Oh.”

Elodie could feel her face fall in shock, but it took her brain a moment to reboot after such a curt denial.

“N-no!” Cullen realized belatedly what he’d said and stuttered to rectify it. “I mean, Maker’s breath. Not like that. I’ve been turning people down so much tonight I’m answering without thinking.”

Elodie smiled ruefully up at him, and his eyes reflected back the pinks and blues of the neon lights beyond them.

“You are awfully popular,” she said, trying to keep her voice playful and not envious in any way.

“Were that I wasn’t,” Cullen said, voice bitter. “I just… I don’t dance. Remember how you asked me before? We… never really covered that in Templar training.”

“Ah.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Elodie said, leading him back inside. “It was just a thought. No big deal.”

His brow set back into a neutral expression, and he nodded. Elodie got the impression that he was still beating himself up about it, so she changed the subject as quickly as she could before she had to leave him.

“I’ll drop by again later, see if you need saving."

“I’m positive that I will,” he muttered. “So thank you.”

She laughed, and was about to say goodbye when she saw a shimmer on his jacket lapel.

“Oh no. Cullen!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I got glitter on your jacket,” Elodie said. “All over your jacket actually… Shit, I am so sorry. Let me go see if I can’t find some wet napkins or something-”

“No, no,” Cullen laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder. The contact with her bare skin electrified her, and seemed to do the same for him. His gaze darkened, his eyes heavy lidded. Caught in the doorway to the balcony, she was sure people could see them, and could interpret this touch as something more than it was.

Did she care? More importantly, did Cullen?

He dropped his hand from her, his fingertips trailing away as if magnetized to her skin, and it seemed to Elodie that he most definitely did not.

“It's not a problem,” he murmured. “In fact, I like it. Your glitter looks like stars on the black fabric.”

“What a romantic notion, Commander,” she chuckled, trying to shake off the urge to draw him down to her mouth by his shirt collar. “To me it looks like careless streaks of makeup.”

“Well… Either way,” he said as he smiled. “Feel free to get glitter on me anytime.”

“Really?” she laughed, struggling not to blush. He most likely didn’t mean it the way she was taking it. It was Cullen, after all. “You’re not just being nice? Because I can go get-”

“Really, Elodie.” He tilted his head, biting his lip gently. “I mean… anytime.”

She had to put her hands on her hips and look away before she kissed him. It was inevitable if he teased her like this. Why was he so smooth when he wanted to be? Elodie was about to break, about to turn back to him and give completely in, when a buzz on her thigh reminded her of more pressing matters.

"I'm sorry. To be continued?"

"Maker I hope so," he murmured in a low growl, and Elodie cursed the fact that they both had jobs to do.

She moved away from Cullen, uttering another small apology, and he held the door open so that she could run out and back into the fray of gawking onlookers. Cullen was immediately cornered behind her, and Elodie could hear the questions begin anew, with fresh ones about his relationship with her peppered in for good measure.

Before she could get even more distracted, or allow herself to stay and listen in on how Cullen answered them, Elodie strode back down the star-splattered stairs to wade through the ocean of Orlesian strangers. Hopefully she'd find her party members adrift somewhere within before she drowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm about to change your life" was a line I waaaaanted to include, but couldn't find the space for without an Angelica. Oh well. Have the tiny Hamilton ref I put in anyway ;)


	20. Coyote Elodie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a 3 day weekend where I'm not gonna touch my phone or laptop, so I'm doing a back to back update this week!! Enjoy!!

The night continued. Elodie and her companions uncovered a basement full of threats and shadows, not that anyone was terribly surprised. Further lack of surprise was had by all when each of the trio involved seemed utterly blasee about the entire affair.

After speaking with the heiress Celene and getting no reaction to mentioning the murders, Elodie had found the infamous Briala snooping about the DJ booth, and she had confronted the elf as well. Briala, at least, seemed to embody a cold rage that Elodie believed was directed towards the despicable bigotry in the club. But still, Briala seemed oddly aloof still. Oddly immune. Gaspard was tossing back Patron in the corner, surrounded by people but not being spoken to. When Elodie approached and refused a drink, it was obvious he was drunk, but used to the sensation. He was calm, collected, and frightening in his methodical refutation of her worries. When Elodie walked off, she understood why there were rumors about him having become BlackOps.

As she took off one heel to massage a tiny pinched blister forming at the base of her ankle, Elodie realized that she was not going to come out of this cleanly. The blustering of a presence was turning into a dangerous game indeed, just as Florianne had hinted. The night was a blur of LEDs and lies, and every single one of the main trio involved in it was manipulative to their core.

But besides that, the party was lovely in its own way. Elodie reminded herself to take it in when she could, and to breathe.

There were sparklers in the courtyard, cigars on the balconies, and smoke-filled alcoves housing cage-dancers. In one corner, a woman with surgical gloves on was administering what Elodie could only assume were botox injections to peoples' foreheads and temples. In another, more secluded area, with booths covered by curtains, glass tables held expensive-looking powder in neatly tracked lines. There were fountains indoors, plants lit with bio-luminescence that pulsed according to the beat of the music, and indulgent duvees for people to lounge on as they took a break from dancing below. 

Moving past those, Elodie found secret rooms with paintings that looked classic and out of place. It made Elodie’s skin crawl to see the animals posed lifelike and frozen. She took comfort in the fact that Sera would have been taking tons of selfies with the creepy taxidermied safari animals had she been there. Luckily, she was not in one place for very long, and could leave those rooms behind as quickly as she came upon them.

She would have a lot to scrub from her mind’s eye when tonight was over, she was beginning to note.

The constant movement was dizzying. Just making her way through the crowd was like swimming in an ocean comprised of people. Pheromones and perfume filled the air, cascading around Elodie like physical waves. There were no breakers to get past, no shores to wash upon, only more and more depth to get lost in. Dancing didn’t help, and fighting certainly didn’t either. It seemed that Elodie was only destined to sink. She took breaks where she could, running gasping to balconies abandoned by partygoers and jumping to lean out of opened windows that overlooked the busy street below. It helped, but only a little, and every time she took a break she was reigned back in by various necessities.

Vivienne called her over only once in the night. It was after Elodie had disappeared and reappeared, in what she thought was a subtle way. The enchantress had put down her phone, motioned for Elodie to come to her with a wave of her delicate wrist, and then had proceeded to fuss over Elodie’s hair.

Elodie hadn’t realized, but it had started to fall down halfway through the night, probably after the first time she’d had to strong-arm a bouncer who’d tried to choke her out. When the guy had grabbed her and wrapped both meaty hands around her waist to throw her to the ground, Elodie had twisted, wrapped her legs around the man’s neck to use his own weight against him, and he’d gone down without much of a fight after that.

But apparently it had mussed her hairdo, and they couldn’t have that.

“There you are, my dear,” Vivienne cooed, turning back to her entourage of what Elodie could only assume were famous designers and stylists. They all looked like they had stepped off of a glossy magazine page, luster-filled and spritzed to photoshopped perfection, and one of them made a tsk noise at her. It was a dismissal. Elodie left without a word.

She wasn’t sure when the time had passed so quickly, but Leliana’s shift at the bar was coming to a close by the time Elodie made her way back up to the second floor. She was trying to get a good vantage point when the Nightingale texted the group chat.

_Nightingale 1:35am_

**_Well that was fun. Reminded me why I decided not to be a bartender._ **

_El’assan 1:35am_

**_How bad was it?_ **

_Nightingale 1:35am_

**_Put it this way: if another man tells me a ‘little birdy’ told him that the Nightingale needs a good lay, I will personally go out to the streets, hunt down a pigeon, bring it back here, and hammer its beak into the back of his throat._ **

_JosieMo 1:36am_

**_Boo :(_ **

_C_Rutherford 1:36am_

**_I never thought I would say this, but thank the Maker it’s my turn._ **

_JosieMo 1:36am_

**_That’s the spirit!_ **

_JosieMo 1:37am_

**_… get it guys?_ **

_Nightingale 1:37am_

**_Ugh. You couldn’t wait for me to get off shift before you had the bubbly, could you Josie?_ **

_JosieMo 1:37am_

**_Spirit because bartending alcohol guys!_ **

_El’assan 1:37am_

**_Josie’s had a spirit or two, it seems._ **

_Nightingale 1:38am_

**_Oh no! Cullen! Quick! CALL THE PRIEST OUR JOSIE IS POSSESSED._ **

_Nightingale 1:38am_

**_With booze._ **

_C_Rutherford 1:38am_

**_Come on. Don’t joke about that stuff._ **

_Nightingale 1:38am_

**_Lighten up, Commander. Let your curls down a bit._ **

_C_Rutherford 1:38am_

**_Do not forget what we are here to do. I don’t want you letting your guard down just yet, any of you._ **

_Nightingale 1:39am_

**_Do not mistake forced levity for obliviousness, Cullen. Some of us just know how to play the Game._ **

_El’assan 1:39am_

**_Cullen, L, put your phones up. The night’s almost over, don't get fucking scrappy now._ **

_JosieMo 1:39am_

**_I swear sometimes it’s like they’re related._ **

The read receipts showed the other two had at least pretended to heed her order. Only she and Josephine remained in the group chat for the moment. Elodie clicked off her phone and finished walking up the crystal-lined stairway up to the second floor, glancing about the crowd to try and remember where the bar was.

Elodie made her way over to the semicircle of backlit booze and caught Cullen right as he was pouring out seven consecutive tequila shots.

“You know,” he said, glancing up at Elodie with a smirk as she approached, “I think I’m getting the hang of this.”

He seemed all too happy to once more have a bar separating him from his crowd of eager fans. Elodie crossed her arms and shot him a wink.

“Don’t get too cocky,” she warned. “There are some interesting drinks that I think a few of your more ardent admirers are considering ordering.”

“Excuse me!” a girl called, pushing past Elodie to hang on the bar. “Commander Rutherford?”

“Just Cullen’s fine,” he answered, moving the seven shots to the group on his right. “That’ll be 85 even.”

“That one’s yours!” the group protested. “Take it with us!”

“Thanks but no thanks,” Cullen said, pushing back the single shot the guy in the group had thrust at him. “I should really stay sober.”

“Come on,” the group begged.

“Commander Rutherford!” the original insistent girl called, reaching across the bar to grab for a lime wedge. Cullen, being distracted, got to her too late to keep her from grabbing it up and putting it in her mouth.

“Ugh, enjoy that. On the house,” he muttered. “What can I get you to cut that lime with?”

“I want to order a blowjob!”

“W-what?” he asked, pausing to blink.

Elodie covered her smile with her hand, giggling. Cullen looked aghast, pressing both hands on the counter so that he could lean forward, like he had misheard her.

“What was that?”

“A blowjob!” the girl repeated, louder this time. She seemed to revel in his wide-eyed expression, glancing back at her friends to grin drunkenly. Cullen straightened, his face falling into a stern look Elodie knew he used with insolent recruits.

“No."

“N-no?” the girl echoed. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean no, you’re not getting one.” Cullen turned away, the tops of his ears reddening as he blushed, but his face remaining cold and stern. “You’ll get a shot of tequila unless you come up with something else to order.”

“But I don’t like tequila.”

“Then what else can I get you?” Cullen asked.

“Fine. Uh. Cranberry vodka,” she answered around the citrus. “Top shelf vodka, mind you!”

“Does the cranberry juice have to be top shelf too?” he asked.

Elodie knew that tone. It was the one Cullen used on Leliana when he disagreed with her methods of securing intel, but in the rich hues of the club it could definitely be read as flirty. That tone, the ease with which Cullen pulled it out in casual conversation, like he didn’t know what flirting was— that tone was why Elodie questioned how fond her Commander actually was of her.

And the girl in front of him seemed to immediately do the same.

"Just give me whatever you have," she said, her voice sultry. Her friends at either side of her swatted at her shoulders, but they wore looks of envy at the girl's bravery all the same.

Excitement and jealousy flooded through Elodie at once, a heavy mixture. Almost like he could sense it, Cullen turned to Elodie and grimaced, as if he was trying to convey, _Look at what I have to endure._

Even so, Elodie was barely registering his discomfort. She was too busy admiring his work. He was speaking to the crowd as a leader, methodical and precise in his movements, never losing track of who had asked for what even though there were never less than three people shouting at him at once.

And the crowd was really responding to it, most of them grabbing a drink and then moving on to continue dancing. The tip jar was already half full, even though Elodie knew they had to empty it at the end of their shifts. Cullen was impossibly popular among the Orlesians. A few of them even stayed leaning on the counter as if it were precious real estate, whispering to one another, but at least those people were pleasantly out of the way.

The only customer who might have posed a problem was the guy and his group who had ordered the tequila and wanted Cullen to shoot it with them. They refused to move on, and all insisted that they would not take a shot until the Commander did. That also meant they were withholding their money. It was becoming a bore for everyone but the drunks involved.

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists,” Cullen teased, pushing the tequila back at them for what looked like the final time. He was being coy, playful almost, but Elodie could see he was at the end of his rope. “Your tab’s still at 85.”

“Do you mind if I join you Commander?” Elodie interrupted sweetly, opening the bar and stepping behind it to stand with Cullen. He stood straighter, and Elodie was sure that a part of him was going to tell her off or ask her to get back to work. She felt a twinge of guilt; Cullen looked almost betrayed, as if she were undermining him. “Trust me,” she said, low and insistent. Cullen shut his mouth and Elodie plastered on her most personable smile. “First we need chasers!”

“Just use the lime,” some random guy said to her left, but she ignored him.

She leaned close to the Commander, playing like she was flirting with him as she reached for a couple of beer bottles under the counter, but when she spoke quickly it was in a tone of conspiratorial seriousness. She watched as Cullen swallowed reflexively, as his throat moved, as he dipped his cheek so that it touched hers.

His stubble scratched a bit at her jawline, and Elodie had to fight to remember what she needed to say to him. It was difficult when he nuzzled her like that, when the cries of envy and whistles of approval sounded off from behind her across the bar. She felt Cullen's hand at her waist, poised to push her away, and she touched his shirt collar with two fingers to hold him in place. He stilled.

“Take the shot in your mouth," she ordered quietly, "but do _not_ swallow. Hold it. Act like you’re taking a swig of the half-empties, but spit the shot back into the bottle. Got it?”

Cullen paused, and for a second Elodie wondered if he’d heard her over the noise of the crowd. When he moved his lips by her ear, she tried to hold back a shiver at his tone.

“You speak as if you’ve done this before, Miss Elodie.”

“Many a time,” she answered. "Are you afraid to let someone more experienced than you tell you what to do, Cullen?"

"Hmm," he laughed, a throaty noise. "Not at all."

Well. She had only meant to pretend to flirt, and look where that had gotten her. Fully flustered and holding back a desperate grin, Elodie pulled away and handed Cullen a half-empty bottle of beer. Leaning back down below the counter, she took another one for herself.

She turned back to the bar, gesturing over the crowd with her implant hand. The eyes of the strangers caught the glowing metal embedded in her palm, a few awestruck gasps ringing out. Elodie smirked.

“Aw... no shot for me?” she wondered aloud coyly.

The crowd hesitated a millisecond, and then burst into a drunken symphony.

“B-buy the Inquisitor a shot!”

“Get two for the Inquisitor!”

“I’ll pay to see it!”

"Fuck I spilled mine, ey Commander-"

Elodie turned to Cullen, leaning against the bar with one hand on her hip, waiting for him to serve her as the patrons slapped bills to the glass. He handed her a shot, got another for the man who had dumped his expensive tequila all over himself, and then looked down resignedly at the drinks before him.

“Ah, Inquisitor. You’re a bad influence, you know,” Cullen chuckled, taking the tequila in one hand and the beer bottle in the other.

“Still managing to save your ass.”

“Oh believe me. I know what I owe you.”

She smiled up at him, clinked her shot glass against his, and then against the groups' as they cheered raucously. Quickly, before anyone could watch too closely, Elodie poured it back without swallowing. She made a face, as did Cullen, but when she watched the Commander she couldn’t tell he was holding it in his mouth at all. He was a good actor, at least, but it also wasn’t hard to fool the drunk crowd with the trick. They raised their beer bottles, pretended to drink, and spat, setting the bottles down back under the counter to conceal their contents when they were done.

Elodie grabbed for two limes and handed one to the Commander, hoping it would rid her mouth of the dry heat of the tequila quickly. Cullen sucked on the fruit only for a second, then tossed the rind in the bin and got back to taking orders.

The reaction from the crowd was immediate, and Cullen merely had to hold out his hand to get the money he was owed. Elodie laughed, figuring her work here was done.

As Elodie was leaving, however, Cullen caught her hand. Desperate and quick, he trailed his fingers down her palm. Automatically, her hand closed around his and their fingers interlocked for the briefest moment. She knew Cullen had to feel the implant there, wondered if it was intentional or not that he had grabbed her left hand. The pads of his fingers were still slightly sticky from the lime, catching on her smooth skin as he held her hand tight. Elodie glanced up at him and found his eyes trained on hers.

“Be safe, Inquisitor,” he said firmly.

“You too,” she joked, pulling her hand free and pointing to the three sets of shotglasses waiting for him to fill them. He chuckled, turning away with a shake of his head, and Elodie left with difficulty.

Cullen's hand in hers was so sweet, so soft a gesture, that she felt like she was walking blind. It was becoming clear, maybe too clear, that things were changing between the two of them. Whereas back in Haven Elodie had thought him rather cold, she could no longer imagine Cullen as anything but a sweet and diligent friend. He'd shown her more of himself, been vulnerable, been strong, been accepting.

And he liked her, too. He _had_ to like her back to willingly be reaching for her in the ways he had been.

Or was he just worried? Concerned for her safety? Feeling responsible as her military strategist?

Focus. She had to focus. Now was not the time, and this was precisely the reason why she hadn't wanted anything physical to happen at the Winter Palace. She was getting distracted, getting too involved in something that took away from her mission at the moment, and she needed to stop while she still could.

Elodie stretched out her fingers and then clenched her hand into a fist, trying to banish the feeling of Cullen’s touch from her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen Coyote Ugly in probably literal decades, but I remember this scene being obscenely adorable and sweet. Sorry there have been so many references in their night club escapades lately. I can't resist.


	21. A Very Short And Very Upsetting Interlude

It seemed that the night only went faster from there. There was no rest for the wicked, so they said, and with each new step in the Orlesian club, Elodie did in fact feel very wicked.

It was difficult to collect herself after having seen the images she’d been subjected to, after having listened to the audio files she’d been bombarded with, after having found out the intricate plots she’d found. Plural plots, by the way. As in multiple, overlapping, horrible plans to try to collapse the Orlesian heirs from the inside out.

It had started macabre but tame enough, comparatively. Elodie and her party members had uncovered screenshots of a plot to implicate Celene in an affair while also having found proof that she was in the process of blackmailing her cousin. That had been the first catalyst to the end of the night.

On top of that, Elodie had been ambushed by a band of assassins, careful in their garrot-wielding cleverness. She’d found out that Cassandra was carrying concealed when the silenced weapon went off right next to Elodie's diamond-laden ear, and her attackers fell to the floor.

That was their first kill of the night, and it was hard to conceive of the fact that it had happened only fifteen minutes after she’d taught Cullen how to take a fake shot.

Elodie wondered at the family not having eaten itself alive from the inside before now, wondered at why she’d even had to intervene. The Winter Palace surrounding her seemed more and more like a haunted prison, rife with ghosts of secrets and lies long past.

They found out even more, since the night was still young. Because of course they did. Each implication seemed to domino another separate threat. The worst was the texts they found about halfway through their third foray into the club’s basement.

The things proposed in the screenshot text messages were not only vulgar, they were grotesque. Talks of Celene’s likeness being put into silicon molds to then graft onto androids for personal use; ideas being thrown around at how best to destroy Gaspard’s reputation online with only a few well-placed clicks and about five hundred thousand dollars; a slew of blog posts about a fire years ago, one that had burned an Orlesian alienage to the ground… with tags defending the slaughterer, and a username that they tracked back to Briala.

They weren’t worth saving. They spoke as if taking a life were merely a chess piece being knocked onto its side instead of a soul being snuffed out of existence forever.

Solas had told Elodie not to read the blog posts further, had taken it upon himself to continue taking screenshots while she gathered herself in the corner. She’d been so grateful, but had already seen the unforgivable sentiments. They burned into her even when she stared at the blank wall on the other side of the hidden room.

The night did not seem to end after that, either, even though Elodie prayed it would.

Vivienne and Solas had been quick to disrupt a DDOS attack found in a server below the bar, a secret basement that had taken Elodie five whole minutes to pick the lock for. That had been the final straw of the night, and it could have potentially stolen all of the credit card information used in the entire club. On top of that, it would have delved into the employees’ personal records, social security numbers, and emails.

All those elves, turned into human trafficking victims with just the right click of a mouse and an empty space where a conscience should be.

“They can’t do this to us,” she’d whispered to Solas, but she didn’t think he heard.

“I found a signature in the code, Inquisitor,” he’d replied, glossing over her sentiment. “You’re never going to guess who planted this.”

Elodie had frowned. She had her ideas.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Florianne had planned the server attack, not after the posturing she’d done. And after the heiress' goads on the dance floor, Elodie was looking forward to confronting her a bit too eagerly.

But when the evidence was laid bare, when Florianne's mask had been stripped off, they realized that she hadn’t done it for monetary gain. The name they’d been chasing all over Thedas was swimming in the programs of tainted AI, was graffitied in black, bubbling paint through gang-ridden underpasses, and was now mentioned in Florianne’s egotistical coding.

Corypheus.

The person behind the username was still unknown, but Elodie didn’t care. She got sick pleasure from thwarting him at every turn. Anonymous bullshitter, she was going to prove his pride wrong, and she was going to start by exposing his contacts in every corner of Thedas.

What better place to start than in Orlais?

Elodie arrested Florianne, embarrassing her in front of the crowd of onlookers. Gaspard, to his credit, seemed to have had no idea of Florianne's involvement with Corypheus, and he even spoke of disownment as his sister was taken away in handcuffs. Elodie rolled her eyes at his threats. He’d just been innocently trying to murder his cousin to become syndicate ruler, that’s all. How dare Florianne do something so similar for her own personal gain.

Instead of leaving Gaspard, Celene, and Briala to their own devices, Elodie had taken the blackmailing into her own hands. Gathering the trio together, she laid everything out on the table. Step by step, once again, Elodie moved across the floor radiating a killer confidence. She had a counter for each point, a comment for each rebuttle, and she knew that she had won when everybody got quiet. Nobody moved, nobody breathed, and Elodie found she was shaking with ire at the thought of them being in charge of so much money and so many people.

“So,” Gaspard growled, voice gravelly. “What does this mean for us? For Orlais?”

“It means you are all fucked,” Cassandra said simply, filling the silence and reminding Elodie of her job.

“Unless we can all come to a compromise,” Elodie adjusted, her own tone firm and leaving no room for argument.

Much as she wanted them to all fall, she forced them to build each other up. With Elodie’s prodding and careful evidence collecting, she forced the three of them to find a solution for running the syndicate as smoothly as they could together. No more in-fighting. No more assassination attempts. Put on your public speaking mask and shut up about it. On top of that, she had called the police and alerted them to the possibility of potential Venatori mobsters still fleeing the scene.

All Elodie could think as the night swirled around her was that it was too much. The crowd of partygoers looked up at the balcony above the DJ booth as the trio of syndicate starlets spoke, and they applauded the Inquisition’s efforts, and she just kept imagining what it would be like to walk out the front door and just keep walking.

She'd keep walking with stars moving beneath her feet until it was all behind her. As the people on the first floor looked up at the brandishing starlets, Elodie moved back and away towards the windows on the second floor, seeking out the shadows until she could get the okay to leave the Winter Palace for good.


	22. As We Are

When they finished shutting down what could have ended one of the wealthiest empires of Orlais, that collective sigh of relief should have been enough to calm her down. But try as she might to get a hold on the evening, Elodie still felt cold rage balled up in a lump in her sternum. As law enforcement approached the nightclub, she stayed in the shadows of the second floor and refused to go downstairs no matter who asked her to. Elodie’s advisors began press control and police statements. Josephine had free reign of the microphones and Leliana was to wrangle their agents and debrief them. Cullen was in charge of working with police to divert traffic and get access to SWAT statements before they went to their commanding officers.

Upon the clearing of the club, Varric had suggested they go meet Dorian, Bull, and Sera at the bar across the way. But Elodie had declined.

“Sorry, Varric,” she'd murmured. “Go on without me. Tell them I said hi.”

“You take your time, Toffee,” he’d answered.

Vivienne had gone home immediately, with Solas offering to drive her. It was strange to see them leaving together, and Elodie had wanted to angrily blurt out that Solas was not a chauffeur. Elodie had recognized that she was hurting, though, and kept her mouth shut until the police came to take her statement.

The police found her sitting at the bar twenty minutes later, staring at the container of limes with an empty expression on her face. Elodie refused a shock blanket, told the police that she was fine. When asked for her testimony, she gave it in a steady stream of calm descriptions. She did not embellish. When she was told she could go home, she asked if she could wait out the crowd. The officers told that whatever she needed would be allowed, given what she’d gone through to protect the heiress Celene. She refused a second time the foil blanket the EMT offered her, feeling all at once too warm and too cold and too much like nothing at the same time.

As everyone around her slowly faded away, promising debriefing in the morning, Cassandra found Elodie on the second floor watching the police rope off a secret room.

“Are you going to stay here a while?” Cassandra asked.

“I might. Is that okay? Do you need a ride home?”

“No,” the Seeker answered. “I was asking because I will be accompanying the Captain to the police station to continue filling out some reports. I assume he will call me a taxi from there.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“It’s my job,” she answered. “But I wanted to make sure you knew where I was going. It was the least I could do, seeing as Varric has disappeared without a word, off to Maker knows where.”

“He went to Cosmos.”

“Cosm— Whatever for!” Cassandra stuttered, her face reddening.

“To find Sera and Bull I think?” Elodie answered, forcing a little smile. “Maybe he needs some ridiculousness after tonight.”

“Well… with those two, it is a guarantee he will find it."

Cassandra swayed, shifting her weight back and forth a bit.

“Are you going to drive back now?” her friend asked.

Elodie shrugged.

She couldn’t bring herself to confess that she was in a state of dissociation, her body still bruised even as it was wrapped in starlight, her mind still spinning even as she stood still. She wanted to tell Cassandra, but she just couldn’t. Elodie forced herself to inhale, then exhale, counting to ten.

“I’m going to take a breather on the balcony and then see how I feel. I don’t want to drive while I’m still hyped up from everything.”

“Alright. Take a cab if you need to. Or call me and I can figure something out.”

“Go on, Cass. The captain’s waiting.”

“Right. I will see you back at Skyhold,” Cassandra said, reaching out to give Elodie’s shoulder a reassuring pat before she left. Elodie turned, eyeing the escape of the balcony door.

Once outside, it was marginally easier to breathe, but the world still felt unreal and out of reach. Bigoted sentiments from the night bubbled up in Elodie’s stomach, reminding her of how people saw her.

Of how they saw _her people._

The images of a burning alienage haunted her mind’s eye, the audio recording of a refugee camp used as leverage in the syndicate family’s war scratched at the inside of her skull. She hugged her arms around herself, wishing she had more clothes on. She felt so little, so exposed.

The music of a dying club as cars revved and patrons left was normally a comfort for Elodie. Now it held nothing but the looming bass of several heartbeats almost extinguished. The lights dancing in the city beyond her were no longer beautiful aesthetic— they reminded her of just how many people depended on her accuracy, her diplomacy, her consistency in Thedas.

Absently, Elodie picked blood from underneath her polished fingernails as she mulled over everything. It made her feel sick to pick the drying flakes out, made her wonder how much of a mess she looked with the streaks of crimson turning brown like dead leaves on her bare shoulders.

“Shush,” Elodie muttered to herself, to her brain, as she struggled to keep her eyes from welling up with tears.

It was so late, and she was so tired. She was tempted to shut them against the city skyline, if just for a moment. But if she did that, then she would see the images of corrupted AI again, with Celene’s death mask glued onto their mannequin faces. Even though nobody in the family had died tonight, they _could have so easily_. They would have done worse, given the chance. The image of starlets and bright lights and smiling faces was indeed a mask for the seedy underbelly of inner city mafia families at bloody war with each other.

If not for Elodie, they would have gotten what they deserved.

Strangely enough, this sole fact seemed to be what was keeping Elodie from finding peace. Nobody had been killed, not even Florianne who was going to be tried for her crimes, and maybe they were one step closer to finding out who this anonymous Corypheus madman was. Elodie had even managed to calm an electrical surge with her implant hand, which was still stinging and aching in the aftermath.

But instead of giving her a sense of relief, the events of the night she’d subverted just seemed to dig further into her anxiety.

_Did I do the right thing?_

Elodie tried to distance herself from it all instead, and preoccupied herself with watching as Josephine fielded any and all questions below her.

Josie was standing in the middle of the parking lot, surrounded by press and police. Elodie observed as Leliana watched from the shadow and conferred with people who Elodie had thought were waitstaff, but who seemed to be Inquisition agents. When Leliana caught her eye, Elodie waved. The Nightingale lifted her chin in acknowledgment, and then continued to scan the crowd as if she’d never made eye contact with Elodie in the first place. It was a bit of a sad feeling, having Leliana’s eyes leave her. Elodie wondered where Cullen was, if maybe he had gone home.

Maybe he had, without even saying goodbye.

The thought was such a lonely one that Elodie leaned forward on the railing, her head in her hands. She should just go home too. Enough was enough.

“Inquisitor,” a smoky voice behind her startled Elodie into whirling.

The voice belonged to a gorgeous woman with her hair done up in sparkling jewels and one delicate gold-gilded feather trailing from her shoulder strap. At Elodie’s suspicious expression, the woman rolled her eyes.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I’m not the press.”

“If you’re not the press then you’re a cop,” Elodie said, eyes narrowing. “And I’ve already given my statement.”

The woman did not argue, but she did pause in the doorway to the balcony, looking mildly amused.

“Alright. I’ll bite. Who are you?” Elodie asked, turning fully to face her as she leaned back on the railing. Secretly, the knives on her upper thighs were still unclipped and well within reach. Her immobility faded away, replaced by survival instinct, but the woman spoke before Elodie had a chance to act.

“My name is Morrigan. I was working this case undercover, way before the Inquisition was hired on as private bodyguards, and I had no opportunity to introduce myself to you before now. To be completely honest, I expected to find you reveling in the impromptu press conference downstairs.”

“There’s no need for me to be there,” Elodie said softly.

“True, but they wish to congratulate you and toast in your honor. Do you not care that they wish to thank you?”

Elodie frowned, her air escaping her lungs in an unconscious exhale.

“Ah. I see.” The woman gave a little exasperated sigh of her own. “Then allow me to apologize for intruding, and offer my briefest congratulations so that I might leave you once more to your thoughts. You uncovered more evidence against the royal family than I ever could, even though I had my suspicions working with Celene for as long as I have.”

“Oh for Maker's sake, why you couldn’t just do this shit yourself then?” Elodie sputtered, frowning at the woman across from her clad in the burgundy satin dress, gold and teal feathers adorning the single shoulder strap. She was tired of being poked at, metaphorically and verbally, and this was, in a way, the last straw.

The woman, Morrigan, frowned, and Elodie remembered herself. She held up a hand, taking a deep breath.

“I’m… I’m sorry. It’s Morrigan, you said?”

The woman inclined her head.

“I’m sorry, Morrigan. Naturally you couldn’t do anything without proper evidence. It would have blown your cover.”

Morrigan licked her lower lip, as if she were preparing a response, and Elodie prepared herself for a rough rebuke.

“Sometimes you’re too close to something to be able to stop it,” Morrigan said softly. "Were that it had been in my power to do more, Inquisitor."

A moment passed, a siren screamed further out into the city, and the two women on the balcony struggled to find a common ground. Finally, Elodie spoke.

“I can’t imagine how tired you must be, if I feel this way after only a few hours."

"You have no idea," Morrigan muttered.

"You wear it well, at least," Elodie said with a little tip of her chin.

"Hopefully you never have to learn how to hide the weight of it."

"Fingers crossed indeed," she said, more to herself than to the woman across the stone floor.

“In any case, I'm glad to see we have a bit of mutual understanding here,” Morrigan replied, stepping forward to lean on the railing with one elbow across from Elodie. “I was hoping we’d come to get along, in a way. I’m to start work for you at Skyhold, and it would be terribly predictable to have yet another person blaming me for influencing Celene’s familial spats.”

“We’re smarter than that in the Inquisition,” Elodie said.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes, like she was unsure if Elodie was serious.

Wait. Morrigan. Elodie’s eyes widened and the smile dropped away.

The name was familiar. She’d been given intel on this woman, Leliana had described her as an advisor with a deep connection to the darker side of the quantum mechanics field. She was known for being an elusive lecturer, and a spiteful character in any interviews she took. Leliana did not seem to want to be anywhere near the woman. Her name had fallen from Elodie’s mind in lieu of everything else, but now she felt a fool for having forgotten.

“I remember you,” Elodie said now. “You were dancing with Celene, but you were watching Briala. I knew your eyes were too sharp to just be another partygoer.”

“Careful now,” Morrigan replied. “With that flattery, people are going to think you’re turning Orlesian yourself, Inquisitor.”

“I doubt there’s any danger of that,” Elodie replied, turning back to face the city.

“Will there be any issues with my working alongside your team, Inquisitor?” Morrigan asked.

“No. There will not. We welcome you, and any expertise you have, into our organization,” Elodie said, feeling a bit of the weight and responsibility on her alleviated.

“A most gracious response,” Morrigan mused.

Elodie said nothing, merely turned back to the din in the parking lot that was slowly winding down.

“I will meet you back at Skyhold within a few weeks,” Morrigan promised, already moving towards the door. “Don’t let me rush you. I know you’ve had a fun night.”

Elodie huffed, hugging herself in the cold as Morrigan left her in silence— well, as much silence as could be had with the sirens, press shouts, crowd cries, and riotous laughter going on below her. She shook her head. She would never understand Orlais.

A tiny breath behind her signaled that she was still not alone. Elodie sighed again, fully prepared to answer Morrigan’s next onslaught of questions should she have them, but she never got a chance to turn or to even open her mouth.

“There you are,” Cullen said, his voice filling the space with a tone of soft authority.

Elodie’s sigh caught in her throat, forcing her to swallow, and she could feel her eyes widen. He sounded so relieved, yet she was frozen in place, unable to look back.

“Everyone’s been looking for you,” Cullen added, moving to her side.

That phrase. Elodie wasn’t sure why it broke her, but it made her want to cry. She stared hard at the city below and rubbed her own shoulders, holding herself, trying to stop the shudders that were taking hold of her entire body. Tonight was supposed to be a night where the Commander saw her as powerful.

And here she was trembling, close to tears.

Elodie knew Cullen hadn’t meant for it to rattle her, and she doubted he noticed how she was taking it now. The space was dark. The balcony wasn’t lit anymore. The club inside was almost silent save for the bustle of workers cleaning the bar and sweeping up glitter flecks, and the cars in the lot were being trafficked away by cops wearing bright reflective vests. Elodie was half-hidden, and she doubted Cullen would know she was broken, so long as she didn’t sniffle or anything.

Cullen settled beside her, his forearms on the railing as he looked down at the people below them. When he nudged her elbow gently with his, she didn't pull away.

“Things have calmed down for the moment but… Elodie?”

“Mmm?”

She couldn’t speak. If she opened her mouth to say words, she would sob. She turned to Cullen, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

Fuck, it felt so nice to hear a soft word after the night of shouting over music.

Elodie nodded, then shrugged, and then shook her head. She glanced hurriedly away, tried to breathe, to say something, anything. She didn’t dare blink. When she was sure her voice was steady, she finally answered.

“I’m just tired. It’s been a long night.”

“For all of us,” he agreed, his voice taut and worried.

“How was your last shift?” she asked, trying to deter the conversation from getting too focused on her feelings.

“Not bad, thanks to your trick you showed me.”

Elodie attempted to smile, but then Cullen sighed.

“I cannot tell you how many times I was propositioned for a blowjob,” he muttered.

Elodie let out a sharp bark of laughter, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

"The shot!" Cullen immediately scrambled to clarify, bringing one hand up in a panicked wave as he turned to face her. "The... y'know, the drink, not the actual..." he devolved into a frustrated groan, and both hands ruffled back and forth through his blond curls as he tried to regain his voice. He gave a low groan, then muttered, "Out of morbid curiosity, back at Skyhold I'll have to look up exactly what kind of shot they were asking for."

“Dorian would be more than happy to explain it to you, I’m sure,” she said after composing herself for a second.

“Oh, no doubt,” Cullen agreed, his tone less than amused. When Elodie glanced over at him, though, he was smiling gently out into the city. Elodie turned out towards it as well, trying to find the relief in it that Cullen obviously could.

But there was nothing. Only persistent, nagging doubt. She couldn’t contain it any longer.

“Did I do the right thing?” she whispered, the words almost lost on the breeze.

Cullen hummed in response, like he was thinking of how to phrase what he wanted to say.

“You did right by the Inquisition, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Cullen answered after a pensive pause.

"I'm not asking the Inquisition," Elodie replied. "I'm asking you."

“You did everything in your power to make sure you protected Celene, which was why we were here in the first place.”

“But you said so yourself, back with Leliana. She didn’t deserve to live.”

“You showed me that that wasn’t really up for us to decide,” Cullen said gently.

“This is a typical soldier’s mentality, isn’t it? Not questioning your leader's judgment, just blindly accepting that I've done the best thing? Even when you didn't want me to do the thing in the first place?” Elodie replied. There was a bitterness, an edging sharpness to her voice that she hadn’t expected to find there.

But Cullen nodded and seemed to accept the rebuke. He sighed deeply, as if he had been considering the exact same thing before she voiced it.

“It is,” he said again, his voice measured and careful. "When I remarked that you could let her die, back when you were asking what we thought as your advisors, I think part of me knew you wouldn't do that even if I said it aloud."

"Wh- then why did you say it to begin with?" Elodie demanded.

"It was my opinion when I took all options into account, and you asked us for our opinions. As callous as it was, I firmly believed that Gaspard could take Celene's place and bring the underbelly of the city to heel."

"And now you've changed your mind?"

"I- yes, of course I have," Cullen said, obviously exasperated. "I saw the decision you made, and I'm not blindly following you because you're my leader."

The way he said that word, as if she were both less and more than that to him, made Elodie's knees weak.

"The reason I advised you how I did was because I never took into account that someone like you could _do_ such a thing."

"What _thing_?" she repeated.

"You made them all compromise with one another. I am impressed, Elodie. You did what you knew to be the right thing, and you should not question that."

"Ah."

She fell silent, not sure why she was bristling at the conversation. Cullen was trying to praise her, but all she could feel was irritation that he seemed to be going back on his word. He seemed to sense it and Elodie could see him square his shoulders. Even without his kevlar, it was an imposing posture for him to adopt, and Elodie's heart beat faster in her chest.

"As one of your advisors, and as the Inquisition's Commander, I want to tell you my honest opinions. Even when I don't think you'll agree with me, or maybe even listen to me. I am never going to just keep my feelings from you." He fell quiet, then brought one hand to the back of his neck to scrape against his nape. "But I can see that my opinion weighed heavily on your heart, caused you to question yourself, and for that I apologize."

Elodie said nothing, just crossed her arms harder across her chest as she stared resolutely down at the police officers directing traffic.

“Where peoples’ lives are concerned, it is far harder than simply ‘deserving’ and ‘undeserving’. People are not one thing or another. They contain multitudes.” He turned to her. “And… if it helps assuage the doubt you have, I’m glad you didn’t listen to me.”

Elodie nodded and went to tuck her hair behind her ear, bobby pins askew. She made the mistake of blinking and sent a large teardrop trailing down, tracing the line of her scar. Without moving, she hoped Cullen wouldn’t notice. His words had soothed her, but had also burnt their way into her heart. She was so tired, so strung out, and still so upset that nothing seemed to cool the aching char.

“I know we've worked together for a long time now,” Cullen said, his voice quiet, "but I seem to struggle with considering your feelings before I voice my thoughts."

"Do you?"

Elodie didn't believe it. Cullen seemed to be very good at thinking of her feelings, seemed to know just what to say to send her heart racing or to make her feel comforted. He knew how to reach out to her for help, how to compliment her so that a pink blush bloomed on the apples of her cheeks, knew how to hold his tongue when she'd made a decision he didn't fully understand yet.

"Like I said. You contain multitudes," he whispered. "And I can't predict you."

"I like that you try to anyway," Elodie murmured back.

Cullen gave a soft little laugh.

"So... are we agreed?"

"On what?" Elodie asked.

"I'll keep opening up to you with every relevant opinion that comes to mind to advise you, and you will continue to astound me with your empathy and maturity." Cullen sounded like he was hoping she’d smile. "Deal?"

He was trying to kill her with sweet words, she figured. Elodie sniffled, trying to keep it lowkey. He was pushing her dangerously close to open tears with the comfort he was offering, but damn if she didn’t love hearing it all the same. She nodded, smiling up at him in the dark.

Cullen hesitated, his hand hovering over her shoulder for only a second before he lost his nerve. He dropped it back to his side without touching her, and Elodie felt a brief flare of irritation at the failed gesture. She turned to him in the dark of the balcony, about to ask him why he wouldn’t just hold her already, when a gust of wind sent her curls back over her ear, her tresses catching on her diamond studs and pulling painfully at the lobes.

She made a noise, a little squeak of pain, and Cullen's hand immediately moved up to her hair.

"You're caught, hold on-"

That did it. Ducking away from Cullen's fingers, Elodie began to pull pins free from her tresses. One by one, she tugged, unclipped, and dropped the little metal pins to the stone flooring by her feet. She wondered vaguely if there was blood on the tips of her curls. With a grunt of frustration, Elodie combed through her mass of curls and silver extensions with both hands in an effort to return them to how she usually had them.

Unkept. Wild. Free. Not Orlesian in the slightest, and her ears would be hidden if she wanted them to be.

Elodie didn’t realize she was sniffling and breathing heavily until Cullen’s palm rested on the bare skin of her shoulder. She stilled, looking up at him with wide eyes as tears streaked down her cheeks.

“Feel better with it down?” he asked, like he was willfully ignoring the fact that she was crying, waiting until Elodie brought it up to acknowledge it.

“Yes,” Elodie answered, her word backed by a hiccuping intake of breath.

It was true, even if it was marginal. Cullen nodded, moving his other hand up to briefly tuck a singular curl back behind her ear. She closed her eyes, and he traced the knuckle of his index finger over the curve of her cheek.

“I like it better this way as well.”

Elodie's eyes closed as Cullen’s hand found her other shoulder. He held her there, steady on her feet, as she tried to slow her breathing. She nodded, biting her lip to stop it from quivering.

“I know it’s foolish, but I was worried for you tonight,” Cullen confessed, his words quick and low. "I should have told you sooner but-"

“You worried about me?” she asked, her eyes opening as she looked him over with quiet disbelief.

He nodded.

“Thank the Maker someone did,” she muttered, breaths coming more ragged now, the shock of the evening wearing away and the full impact beginning to hit her.

“Elodie... we _all_ were thinking of you tonight,” Cullen protested.

He didn't sound angry. His voice was soft and desperate.

She nodded, bitter. She knew he was right, knew her friends had had her back, but she’d begun to feel like bait being dangled after she found Florianne out. Elodie had felt betrayed, not only by the Orlesians involved, but by the stupid hope she’d harbored in her heart that maybe, just once, an elf would be able to enjoy a piece of glamorous illusion that would be denied her ever after.

“I would never have let anything happen to you,” Cullen whispered fiercely. “You know that I was watching to make sure of it, that we all were, right?”

“I do, and I know you couldn’t have known what I would find there, but I-” Elodie paused, taking in a heaving breath. When she let it out, she could hear the tremble in the air that left her, and she was positive that her Commander could too. His hands rested on her shoulders, their weight a comfort on her frame.

“Wait…” Cullen frowned deeply. “What did you find?”

Elodie shook her head, not wanting to remember. She had only shared the details with Leliana, had not had the stomach to bring up the specifics more than once. She could barely find her voice, the images flashing at the back of her mind as she struggled to push them back away, back where she would deal with them later once she'd had sleep.

“Don’t make me say.”

“Shh. I won't,” Cullen soothed over her arm with steady fingers, gripping the muscles there lightly then moving back to cup her shoulders. One hand fell away, moving to his own temple, as if he were trying to prevent a headache from manifesting. “I would never make you do anything you didn't want to do, I didn't mean it like that.”

“No,” she whispered, her hands coming up to grip either side of Cullen's waist. She could feel his intake of breath at her touch, could feel his muscles jump reflexively beneath his shirt. She swallowed hard, tried to focus. "It's just that... on top of everything, I don’t feel like I actually helped anyone.”

Cullen’s hand tightened over her shoulder, and she brought up one hand to cling to his in response. Elodie shook her head, trying not to dig her nails into his knuckles as she twined their fingers together.

She didn't know why tonight had opened up this new avenue for them to touch, but she was so grateful for it.

“I mean, the people who died… they’re still dead, aren’t they?” she asked, the final syllable followed by a hiccuping intake of breath.

The phrase tore at her, and she turned out to the city, feeling like a balloon someone had let go of. There was nothing to anchor her, nothing to keep her from disappearing into the night sky. Cullen was even pulling back, his fingers slipping away from hers with a tiny shake. She stared out into the night air, unable to even look at him to see why he’d left her.

Weight around her shoulders brought Elodie back to herself.

A heavy blazer covered in glitter settled softly about her shoulders. Cullen adjusted his jacket over Elodie's bare arms, rubbing her shoulders, soothing her more easily and over a larger surface area now that he had effectively covered her skin. Cullen’s hands drew calming circles over her shoulder blades and back, his movements slow and careful as he massaged the stress of the night away little by little from her knotted muscles. When he grew still, Elodie looked up at him, trying to read the raw emotions written on his face, but he would not make eye contact with her.

“You're right. They’re still dead. And it’s never easy, dealing with that. But just thinking of the alternative, of what could have happened to you in their stead…” Cullen trailed off. He paused, then cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Elodie smiled through the tears, then; the ferocity with which Cullen's eyes darkened when he imagined her hurting was more meaningful than anything else he could have said. The smell of spice and sweetness surrounded her like an embrace, and she reached out with her implant-free hand. Cullen stilled, and Elodie’s hand came to rest squarely on the center of his chest. She stroked up along his sternum, bringing her fingers into contact with his T-shirt collar. She was close enough to hear Cullen's breath catch, to hear him exhale shakily. Beneath her palm, his pulse beat out a steady rhythm, quick and strong. She caught his eyes with hers and nodded her gratitude, words once again failing her.

Before he could say anything else, Elodie resituated herself against Cullen's chest and leaned back on him so that they could both look out over the balcony. She settled against him slowly, gradually, leaving him the option of stepping backwards and denying her the contact.

But Cullen did not step back.

As Elodie leaned her shoulders into his chest, she could feel his heartbeat through her back, or maybe it was her own echoing from his ribs to hers. She couldn’t tell.

Then again, it was really hard to focus on anything besides the way Cullen was wrapping his arms around her waist and tucking her up against his torso in a bundle of smoky glitter. When he brought his hips up against her, gentle even as he hugged her closer, Elodie bit back a gasp. Just that small contact was enough to send her nerves into overdrive, her own body hyper-aware of everywhere that Cullen's body touched. Her sadness was fading fast, quickly replaced by a sliding, pooling warmth low in her hips.

A faint beat, one from neither of their hearts, swelled behind them.

Music? Would the DJ still be playing music, even after the club was shut down for the night?

Maybe it was coming from a passing car, or maybe a club down the street—

_It’s just me and you…_

_Couldn’t see what I see in you…_

“Hey… I know this song,” Elodie whispered, leaning her head back on Cullen’s chest and tilting her head slightly towards him. Cullen responded by nuzzling her ear. He craned his head low to plant a small kiss at the bottom of her earlobe that set Elodie aflame. She whimpered, barely catching the sound behind her teeth as Cullen's teeth grazed over the skin he'd just kissed. It was a quick, indulgent nibble, one that left Elodie weak in the knees.

“I know you do,” Cullen murmured. He brushed another chaste kiss across the diamond stud of one of her rhinestone earrings, and this time there was no pain from the gem in her ear. There was only a stark, gripping pleasure. Cullen's whispers were low, quiet, just for her. "This was on a playlist you made for me, if I remember correctly."

His hands were on her hips now, in a safe zone just by her waist. His fingers gripped the flesh there roughly, just enough to elicit a gasp from Elodie, not enough to hurt. Cullen felt so good, Elodie worried for a moment that this was a dream. But then he whispered against her ear again, and she knew that she could not have dreamed up as tantalizing a sensation.

“The playlist was titled something sweet," he said. "Like, ‘For You’ or 'With You'-”

“With You In Mind,” she breathed.

_Even though you break my heart, my love…_

_Imma need you, Imma need you, Imma need you…_

“That’s the one.”

“Mmmhmm,” Elodie answered, not trusting her voice to form words.

“When this song came on, I couldn’t get it out of my head,” Cullen said, taking her hands in his. “Earlier tonight, after you asked me to dance, I checked with the DJ.”

“You managed to sneak away from your admirers long enough to?”

“Leliana might have helped me,” he confessed with a grin that Elodie could feel against her neck. “This song was queued up to play later on in the night, along with some others that I picked, but that was before everything kind of hit the fan.”

“I’m sorry the timing didn’t work out.”

“I’m not,” Cullen answered, his tone sincere.

Elodie smiled, bringing one of her hands up to swipe hurriedly at the drying tears on her cheeks. In the dark she couldn't see if her fingertips were gray with smudged mascara, or glimmering with golden setting spray, but she found she didn't care.

“How did you even get them to play it now?” Elodie asked, trying to distract Cullen as she preened. “Isn’t everyone gone?”

“I asked for a few favors, just as a thank you for everything you did tonight.”

Elodie laughed, her body naturally moving in time with Cullen’s hips.

“And they agreed to let you play one last slow dance, just for me?”

“Well yeah,” Cullen said, chuckling. “They might have let me choose a few songs, in fact. After I negotiated a bit. And after Cassandra came in to help me talk to the Captain. And after Leliana threatened the DJ.”

“Cullen—”

“I may never have another chance like this, so I have to ask you now,” Cullen left her, pulling back so that he could step into the one spot on the balcony that held a bit of reflected light from the neon signs and streetlamps. Elodie covered her smile with both hands, nervous and elated giggles bubbling up in her chest. Cullen extended a hand to her, a playful smile on the edge of his lips.

“May I have this dance, Elodie?”

She gave a little nervous laugh, placing her hand in his.

“Of course!”

He pulled her forward and the chorus swelled.

_Baby I’ll take, I’ll take, I’ll take_

_I’ll take you as you are…_

He placed her hand on his shoulder, one of his palms finding her waist and the other holding her palm flush against his collar. She thumbed the seam of his shirt as they swayed, their bodies moving slowly together. Elodie was grateful for his blazer covering her shoulders; had Cullen been stroking her bare back the way he was caressing her through the fabric, she would be a mess under his fingers. Even now, she was struggling to hold back a shudder of pleasure.

“I thought you said you didn’t dance,” Elodie whispered, glancing up at Cullen in the shadows.

“For you,” he answered softly, “I’ll try.”

Elodie closed her eyes, tilting her head back as Cullen twirled her in a slow circle. She let him lead, falling into his arms and following his footsteps, and wondered vaguely where he’d learned to carry himself so elegantly. She didn’t question it, and when he pulled her in close and hugged her in earnest to his chest, she clung to him. His blazer fell away to the floor, leaving her skin exposed, and Elodie arched into Cullen’s hands as his fingers found her shoulders and raked gentle caresses over her skin.

_Show me your broken parts and all your flaws…_

_Baby I’ll take, I’ll take, I’ll take_

_I’ll take you as you are…_

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Elodie breathed into Cullen’s neck, her lips against his skin. He pulled back, brushing her bangs back behind her ear as they rocked together. Elodie closed her eyes, tipping her chin up in expectation of the kiss.

Cullen’s lips found her temple, just above her scar, and brushed down over where her tears had escaped. She turned, the corner of her lips finding his mouth. Somehow, even though it wasn’t the kiss she’d exepected, it still managed to ignite her in its tenderness. When her lips parted beneath his, however, Cullen pulled away.

"Elodie," he groaned, a single word that sounded like both a plea and a warning all at once.

"Please, Cullen," she begged, her breath gentle against the white of his scar as she leaned forward once more.

He exhaled, as if those two little words had hit him so hard that the air fled his chest. Elodie watched him in the dark, his eyes distraught even as they fluttered closed, his lips parting as if he couldn't bear to deny them any longer. Cullen dipped his head down to her, his lips brushing softly, almost reverently, across hers in the lightest of kisses. Like a butterfly's wing or a blade of grass dragging gently across her parted lips, teasing, tantalizing, so close and fragile. She kissed him back, and for one transcendent moment they were lost in one another, their breathless moans mingling in the early morning breeze, neither of them pulling away as they brushed kiss after delicate kiss onto the other's skin.

It reminded Elodie of being a teenager, of tentatively feeling out what she was allowed and not allowed to do, of testing boundaries. Fear, yearning, adrenaline all cascaded in a crashing rush in her chest and down into her hips. In the back of her mind, Elodie knew there was no turning back from this, no pulling herself back up the ledge she'd just jumped off of, but taking Cullen's scar gently between her lips and truly tasting it banished all traces of regret from her mind.

A hint of lime at the corner of his mouth. The smell of cologne and crushed petals, his shampoo much sweeter than the musk he wore at his neck. Elodie cataloged the minutiae of the moment, desperate to remember every detail she could while they were so close. Cullen's nose brushed against her cheek as he exhaled, the sound an unspoken tremor. His hands, so large compared to her own, flexed over the flesh of her hips, pulling her into flush contact with him as he slid his thigh slowly, so achingly slowly, between her legs.

Elodie couldn't help it. She broke their kiss and let out a tiny cry, the sound strangled as she tilted her head back and tried to refrain from grinding down. Maker, why did Cullen have to be so tall? The hand by the seam of his collar moved to the nape of his neck, cradling him lower so that she could taste him further.

But Cullen didn't let her. Even with her eyes closed, she felt his spine straighten beneath her fingertips. He kept Elodie close against him, however, even as he pulled away.

“Would you let me drive you home tonight?” he asked, surprising her into blinking her eyes back open.

It took her a moment to recover.

“D-didn’t you drive here?”

“I caught a ride with Leliana,” Cullen said, sending a surprise trill through Elodie.

She wondered what that car of conversation had been like. Had he commented on Leliana and Josephine’s nails? Had he waited for them to be finished and then gotten picked up, or had he gone to the salon with the girls in order to secure his ride?

Cullen seemed to take her pensive silence as discomfort, because he tilted his head so that he could recapture her gaze.

“There’s no pressure to say yes,” he said. He brought one hand up, tracing his thumb across her vallaslin in a gentle swipe to get her to look at him. She complied, flicking her gaze up to his kind hazel eyes. “If it’s weird, if any of this is weird, I can always go back with Leliana and Josephine. You know, if you’d prefer. I just thought you might be tired from... everything.”

_Oh._

In a surprising moment of clarity, Elodie finally saw why Cullen was stopping them from going further.

It wasn't for lack of wanting to. Pressed up against him the way she was, dressed in as little as they were, there was no doubt that he was awfully drawn towards her as well. The heat between their bodies, the length of him pressing hard through his jeans against her hip, the slickness she could feel between her legs when she shifted her weight from hip to hip: these were all a testament to their mutual desire... and to Cullen's unwavering self control.

Elodie wanted nothing more than to set the night aside, to close the door to the balcony, and to see how much of Cullen she could run her hands over before he stopped her. But she knew that she wouldn't. If they deepened the kiss now, if they came together tonight of all the nights... the trauma of what had happened would be on the backburner. This night wasn't theirs, not fully. And damn if Elodie didn't want something like exploring Cullen's body to belong solely and completely to the two of them.

Even though unsettled desire was beating a harsh rhythm in her chest, Elodie gave up. She sighed as Cullen's hand dropped from her cheek and settled on her shoulder once more. They were still swaying, and Elodie slid one hand around Cullen's waist to dance closer to him.

“I am really tired,” Elodie answered, nuzzling into his shoulder. “And I definitely want you to take me home.”

Her pulse leapt at the phrase, at the underlying confession within it, but Cullen seemed oblivious.

“You’re okay if I drive your car?”

She nodded.

He paused, one of his hands tracing a languid line down her spine, stopping to rest at her waist.

“Do you want to go straight back?”

She paused, then shook her head.

“Alright. Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there,” he promised, his voice smooth honey.

Elodie smiled down at his chest. She tried to imagine him as a cold Templar in full SWAT armor, not for the first time, and failed. Had he been so different before now? Had he been this confident, or had he been more insecure? There was so much she wanted to ask him, but the smell of his cologne and the feeling of his hips moving against hers in simple, unassuming waves, was enough for now.

“Can we just stay here for a while?” she asked. “I’m enjoying the dance.”

“We can,” he agreed, laughing a bit as he tucked her back to his chest. One arm lazily draped about her waist, the other tangled in her curls as he held her close to his heart.She could feel his cheek resting gently against the part in her hair, and Elodie slowly raked her fingernails across the small of his back through his T-shirt.

“I must admit," he muttered huskily against her curls, "I’m lucky you have such poor taste in dance partners.”

Elodie chuckled against his chest, finally feeling anchored again as the strains of the last chorus floated past them both. She didn’t try to kiss him again, and she knew that she wouldn’t try again unless he asked. Some instinct within her knew that Cullen was going to be the one to set the pace with that physical step, and she was happy to let him take the lead.

He was extremely good at leading anyway, and he drew her across the balcony floor in slow circles to the dying strains of one of Elodie's favorite songs.

_As I am… baby won’t you take me as I am?_

_As I am, as I am…_

Even after the last few notes echoed off of the high ceilings inside, even after the song faded into another soft melody from the playlist she’d made for him, Elodie and Cullen swayed on the balcony cheek to cheek. The horrors she’d seen, the difficulties she’d faced, began to melt away from Elodie’s bones.

And maybe it was her imagination, but the Commander seemed to finally and completely relax with her as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I must've said it before somewhere in the notes, but the whole reason I started writing this fic seriously instead of just leaving it a jumble of scenes to practice characters-- it's because of the idea of Halamshiral as a night club. And the idea of how Cullen would react to asking the Inquisitor to dance in this setting. So I hope you enjoyed, because goddamn this was fun to write. I like me some hurt/comfort apparently.
> 
> I mean it's kinda obvi if you've read my other stuff haha.
> 
> The song Cullen got stuck in his head is 'As You Are' by The Weeknd.


	23. Exhausted Besties Have Brunch

Elodie got into her car in the predawn glow of white and gray, so tired that the ache in her bones felt like a permanent fixture in the living space that was her body. Like a gaudy decoration that left behind a yellowed-tobacco stain on the wallpaper, the fatigue’s memory tainting her bones would remain even if she could sleep. Cullen must have been equally exhausted, but he drove them home on mostly empty highways and only yawned twice. When he reached for her, his fingers twining in hers, Elodie managed to nod off for a few minutes.

For the most part she managed to stay awake and conversational. Neither of them mentioned how she’d been holding his hand on her lap ever since he reached for her, how she had intertwined their fingers even in her sleep against the skin of her bare thigh. When Cullen's thumb brushed against the back of her hand in a slow _c,_ when Elodie squeezed it tighter, they acted as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Neither mentioned it, but neither seemed to mind.

At Skyhold, they parted ways with a promise to see each other later that day.

“Call me if you need me,” Cullen said, his voice rough.

“I’m going to sleep for twenty hours or so first,” Elodie joked. “But if I wake up before you do, I’ll text you.”

“I don’t need much sleep,” he said. “So that’s not likely to happen, but-”

“You mean you don’t _get_ much sleep,” she corrected.

“Mmm,” he grunted, too tired to argue. “I was going to say that if you do, by some weird anomaly, wake up before me,” he paused, then cleared his throat. “You’re welcome to just come by.”

“Like, come to your room?”

“Yes.”

“To wait on you while you sleep?”

“Or to wake me up. To… be near, if you want to be,” Cullen said, trailing off. Elodie smiled, enjoying the way his eyes narrowed when he was trying to figure out if she was teasing him or not.

“You leave your door unlocked, Commander?”

“No,” he bit his upper lip gently, stretching the scar white as he drew it between his teeth briefly. He was pulling something from his pocket. “I just happen to have a spare keycard in my wallet, though. For emergencies or just in case I lose mine.”

He held out a plastic card with brushed gold edges to her. Elodie glanced down at it, then back up at Cullen, not understanding. He blinked hard, like he was trying to remember where he had left off in his stumblings. It was becoming quite clear that Elodie wasn’t the only exhausted one.

“You are more than welcome to take this one, I mean,” he clarified, his voice low.

“Oh,” Elodie breathed, surprised at how intimate the gesture could feel. She always knocked if she had to go see Cullen in his room, partially because it doubled as his office, but mainly because it was his personal space. She didn’t want to intrude, especially if he was busy working.

Which he always was.

And here he was inviting her to do it. Telling her it would be okay. Giving her complete access. As if the act were nothing and casual and simple... and maybe to Cullen it was. For some reason it broke her heart a little. Maybe he craved intimacy with her as much as she did with him, but didn’t know how to show it.

_Maybe he needs someone he looks up to to show him how._

“This is weird, right?” Cullen muttered. Elodie lifted her gaze back up, confused. “Sorry. I’m… I seem to lack a filter sometimes when I’m with you, and I overstep my boundaries.” He gave a humorless laugh, his hand falling back to his thigh.

But Elodie reached out easily, quickly, before he could drop the card back into his pocket. She caught Cullen's knuckles in her palm, holding his hand in loose fingers.

“You didn’t overstep anything. I think it’s a sweet gesture,” she said firmly, taking the plastic rectangle and making a show of putting it in his blazer pocket.  For some reason, they didn’t let go of one another, their fingers entwined as lazily as they had been behind the bar. Elodie swung her arm gently, pulling him a bit closer. “It’s no weirder than asking you to unzip my hoodie, right?”

“It’s about on par,” Cullen said dryly, seeming to smile despite himself. “But I have to say, I’m alright with it. I mean, if you are, of course.”

“I am,” she said, nodding. “Thank you for driving me home tonight, Cullen.”

“Anytime.”

They both teetered, possibly on the verge of kissing one another goodnight, when Elodie remembered she was still wearing his blazer.

“Oh. You… while you’re here.”

She let go of his hand and started to shrug out of the garment, but Cullen readjusted it back onto her shoulders with a quick pull.

“I’ll see you when you wake up. You can give it back to me then,” he said with a smile.

“I…”

She stopped, hugging the makeup-dusted blazer about her shoulders. It smelled of Cullen’s cologne. It glimmered with the remnants of her sparkles. It was a reminder, a souvenir of the good parts of the night, and childishly Elodie did want to keep holding it. She could sleep in it if she wanted, enveloped in the scent of him. The thought was a magical one. She had so much trouble sleeping lately, she wondered impishly if being safely curled in Cullen's arms (or at least imagining the act) would help her.

When she inhaled a second time, however, she caught more. Underneath of the aroma she loved was the smell of cigarettes, a touch of lime, and other perfumes that didn't belong to either of them. It was an underlying layer of a night she’d rather put out of her mind. Suddenly, Elodie wanted a shower more than anything, and to wash Cullen’s jacket free of the memories.

“You…?” Cullen prompted, his thumb tracing the curve of her shoulder as he lined up the blazer’s lapel for her.

“Nothing,” she answered. “Goodnight Cullen.”

“Good morning, Elodie,” he answered.

She waved, giving him a little flustered half-smile as she turned on her heel. She pressed the button to call the elevator and turned to glance back once more at Cullen as he walked away. He seemed to be trying to alleviate pressure on the back of his neck with one hand, the hand he’d had resting on her shoulder just now, but she was happy to find him still looking at her. He waved to her, and before the elevator even dinged to signal it had arrived, he was walking off towards where his quarters were.

Once Elodie got into the elevator and let the doors close around her, once she’d punched in the button for the penthouse suite, she slumped to the floor in a heap of limbs. A long groan of relief escaped her lungs in a slow growl.

It was over. It was really over.

She could shower now, or pass out on her bed, or call for food. She could be a person again, even if it was only for a moment. She knew that there would be debriefing, more testimonies, more press wrangling, and more backlash when the initial smoke cleared, but for now it was over.

She almost fell asleep in the elevator, nodding off even as it dinged and opened the doors to the top floor. Forcing herself to shakily stand and put one foot in front of the other, her high heels held in one hand, Elodie made her way to her penthouse and unlocked her door with shaky fingers. Without taking anything off, she flopped on the bed with another groan.

No sleep yet. Shower. Get rid of all the makeup and hair extensions, not to mention the smells and the blood.

That last thought actually motivated her to go to the master bath and run some water. While it got hot, she peeled back her dress and underclothes, and started to examine her bruises.

_Damn._

Her dress was, at this point, unsalvageable. She hadn't realized that blood had soaked through the side, even though it had been camouflaged by the darkness and the smoke of the previous night. The hem was coming apart, and the ribbon that tied her corset in the back was impossibly knotted together. Elodie had to grab her nail clippers and snip it to get it to come undone. Once she stepped out of it, the full extent of the damage was revealed.

Elodie had finger marks on her forearms from where the bouncer had grabbed her early in the night. Knocks and scrapes tinged her skin pink in some places, black and purple in others, and she’d had to pad a few minor lacerations on her side with gauze and black duct tape in makeshift bandages. On her stomach, by her sternum, was a welt from where she'd caught a thin metal pole to the chest, raised and red. Her upper thighs, where the garter for her phone and the garter for her knives had been placed, were chafed and rashy. Overall, she was sore inside and out.

Grabbing a makeup remover wipe from the box she kept by the sink, Elodie began to wipe away her mask. Little by little she uncovered more of herself, her beige vallaslin reappearing starkly against her slightly sunburnt skin. No longer was she smooth as peanut butter, but it was a relief to finally be back to her flawed self.

Glancing away from the mirror, she stepped into the shower and closed the glass door behind herself, standing under the steady beat of warmth as she washed away the rest of her makeup with gentle foaming cleanser.

She scrubbed until her own scent was all that remained of the night, glitter and grit mixing down the drain until everything was gone. After wiping her face with cleanser for the third time, Elodie finally even managed to dislodge the fake eyelashes Hanin had glued onto her lids, and the lipstick that had stained her mouth a pretty matte peach.  When she glanced back at her reflection in the mirror through the glass door, she _finally_  looked like herself—

But oh so much more exhausted.

Turning the showerhead away from the back edge of the tub, Elodie decided she was just going to have a sit-down. Just for a moment. Just so that the hot water could warm her legs while she leaned onto the cool porcelain. She lowered herself to the back corner of the tub, back where there was an alcove carved away. It was most likely meant to help people sit to shave their legs or pumice their feet, but to Elodie it felt like a spot meant for relaxing while the water hit her lap.

She woke up about an hour later to a series of insistent pounding knocks on her door.

Groggy and confused, Elodie shut the water off and had to lean on the edge of the tub before she tried to stand. She was very light-headed, almost unable to keep her feet under her. Elodie slipped, flinched upright to keep her balance, and managed to finally get steady after one heart-pounding moment. Sitting so long in the steam had not been a good thing after such a long night.

“Coming,” she yelled when the knocks didn’t stop. She glanced down at her watch, but there were no notifications of messages or calls, just a reminder of how little she'd gotten to doze. Survival kicked in belatedly, the last reserves of Elodie’s adrenaline spiking. She stepped from the tub as silently as possible, moving into her room and quickly pulling on loose fitting sweats without hardly drying herself. Grabbing one of her holsters from the side table, she readied her handgun as she approached the front door.

More knocks. Pounding again and again.

“Identify yourself,” she ordered, her voice low.

“It’s me,” someone snapped from behind the thick wooden frame. “I’m quite emotional, very upset, and I would like to come in.”

Elodie lowered her weapon, making sure the safety was clicked back on. She kept the chains on but opened the door a crack.

“Dorian?”

“Who else would it be at this hour?” her friend sighed, looking heavily mussed. He smelled of strong alcohol and fruity perfume. It made Elodie a bit sick to her stomach, but that could have been the dehydration from falling asleep in the hot steam. Letting out a long exhale, Elodie forced herself to relax.

She wasn’t sure when it had started happening, but every once in a while after a long night out or a particularly dismal week on the road, Dorian had started to hang out in her room. It wasn’t a regular thing, and she could count on one hand the number of times it had happened, and he was always sober when it did.

That is, until this morning apparently.

“What’s wrong, what’s going on?” she asked, setting her weapon down on the mantle beside the door as she undid the chains. She tried to blink him back into focus, her eyes still bleary from sleep. Dorian heaved a grand, dramatic sigh.

“So much.”

She unlocked the door and Dorian breezed past her in a flourish, only to flop on her armchair and almost knock it backwards. Elodie rubbed her eyes, running her hands through her soaked hair.

“I’m dripping all over the carpet. Make yourself at home, I’m going to…” Elodie paused, watching Dorian closely.

He had come in to her room at odd hours before, just to hang out, but normally he came in and brought a few books to tell her about over coffee. Sometimes he slept over, falling asleep on the couch with one of Elodie’s old sweatshirts on, curled up around a pillow. He always ordered them brunch the mornings after, and would tell her about Tevinter or about his modeling career or about the latest research he’d overheard Solas talking about in the library. Something must have actually upset him for Dorian to come to her at this hour, looking both less than happy and less than sober.

Elodie moved over to his side, brushing back his messy undercut with one hand. Dorian allowed it, closing his eyes to her combing fingers.

“I’m going to order us some food, and get you some water,” she said, finishing her thought.

“I could eat,” Dorian said softly. “But you should put your hair up first. Don’t you know you’re dripping all over the carpet?”

Elodie ignored his ribbing tone and narrowed her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” he replied, opening his eyes and catching her hand to gently bring it down from his hair. He kissed the back of it, his mustache tickling her skin. She noticed he had glitter stuck to his tresses. His hair contained galaxies of the stuff. Dorian sighed. “But I’m glad you asked, anyway.”

“You can turn the TV on if you want,” she said, her heart too tight in her chest. “I bet you money the cooks are already getting chow ready for the soldiers on watch this morning. No reason why they can’t bring us up some stuff to nibble on as we chat.”

“Excellent deduction, my dear Lavellan,” Dorian said, his tone resuming its normal lilting quality. “I’ll see what trash we have on this morning. It’ll set the mood.”

“Perfect.”

As she was turning to go to the phone, Elodie stopped and glanced at Dorian over her shoulder.

“Was that a Sherlock Holmes reference?”

“Nothing gets past you.”

“Why am I the Watson in this relationship?” she demanded.

“C’mon. You know what Holmes is like.”

“Too smart for his own damn good?” Elodie ventured.

“No,” Dorian said, looking affronted. “A narcissist. Now come, come, Watson, fetch us brekky.”

* * *

Dorian was actually much more sober than he had seemed at first. Either that or he just metabolized alcohol extraordinarily quick. While Elodie was tying her hair up in a jersey wrap to keep her curls off her shirtfront, she expected him to fall asleep in the armchair. Instead, he found a reality TV show about fashion faux-pas.

“I wonder if we could convince Solas to go on one of these shows,” he muttered when Elodie was on the phone with the cook. She had to cover the receiver because the idea made her snort.

“Vivienne would love you forever if you could,” Elodie answered once she’d hung up. "He's worn that jacket you picked out for him several times now, though."

"I'm glad to hear it. He hasn't around me."

"It would be proving you right. Doubt he wants to do that and unleash the torrent of 'I told you so' from your mouth," she joked.

"True. You both know me too well."

She sat down beside Dorian on the couch and they spent the next thirty minutes just making fun of the style choices on the screen. By the time the doorbell rang to signal the arrival of breakfast, Dorian had even cracked a genuine smile or two, without sarcasm.

Well, less sarcasm.

Once their food was laid out on the table, Elodie managed to get Dorian to talk a bit more openly, and that was when she began to suspect he hadn’t been drunk at all. Maybe it was his excuse, so that he wouldn’t feel as vulnerable if she had turned him away for the night. Not that she would ever do that, but Elodie had come to have a healthy respect for Dorian’s trust issues; she never took it personally.

“How was the club?” she asked as they sat down to their breakfast. Dorian shrugged, scooting his chair closer.

“It was fine. It’s Cosmos, it is what it always is.”

“I’ve never been,” Elodie replied. Dorian poured them both coffee, and Elodie started to uncover platters of food. Everything smelled so delicious.

“You’d probably like it,” Dorian said dryly.

“I’ll never know if you don’t tell me about it.”

“If you must know, it’s garbage.” Dorian held a bit of bacon up like a magic wand, waving it with a flick of his wrist to emphasize his points. “It has metallic stars everywhere, even on the graffiti wall with the stickers and Sharpie-ed phone numbers and old fliers. It’s small, usually crowded, with only one stage and barely any sitting booths.”

Elodie raised an eyebrow, but Dorian went on.

“The bar is brushed metal and glass with these damned Saternalia lights crowded up underneath. To add to the vibrancy, and I use that word liberally,” Dorian muttered, “they tend to give out glow sticks on event nights and have little mini laser shows on Saturdays. Nothing powerful enough to put your eye out, more reminiscent of when the bowling alley at a kid’s birthday party will turn the lights out to add a bit of mystique to the foot-smell.”

“Does Cosmos smell like feet?” Elodie asked, repulsed, her forkful of eggs frozen halfway above her mouth.

“No. It smells like their signature shot, the Jupiter. It’s a black cherry and cake flavored jello shot, and boy is it popular.”

"Ooh."

"I thought that might strike your fancy."

“Do they have other planet-themed drinks?”

“I usually try to stick to a classic like the Fuzzy Navel when I decide to sink to the level of this club.”

“Naturally,” Elodie said, grimacing into her coffee mug. “So it smells of cherries?”

“Black cherries, there is a difference. Oh, except for on special summer occasions. Then they break out the lime and coconut routine and absolutely drench the place in ‘tropical’ oils.”

He shuddered, finally taking a bite of his bacon.

“So…” Elodie’s face slowly split with a knowing grin. “You love it.”

“ _Vishante kaffas_ ,” Dorian swore. “I’m afraid I absolutely do.”

“Do they let elves in?”

“They let our little bumblebee in, and she was probably on her baddest behavior last night,” Dorian scoffed. “Therefore you, my sweet, will be fine.”

“What did Sera do?”

“Oh, what didn’t Sera do?” Dorian mumbled into his breakfast.

“Sounds like she went a bit wild.”

“Pacing is not in her vocabulary.”

“Well. Then I’ll go with you sometime, just you and me, when we get another breather,” Elodie promised, taking a piece of whole grain toast and spreading a thick layer of butter atop it. “It’s been a while since I went to a gay bar.”

“Did you go to many, outside of the city?”

“My ex-girlfriend a few years back really liked going, so I would take her to dance every now and again. But I stopped after we broke up.”

“Any reason why?”

“I didn’t feel very much like it fit me anymore,” she said, shrugging as she took a bite of toast.

“Ah.” Dorian finished chewing the last of his bacon strip and moved to grab his coffee. Elodie did the same, taking a small sip. They set their cups down simultaneously and then looked up at the same time.

“So are you going to tell me why you were upset?” Elodie murmured.

“I was planning on it,” Dorian sighed. “It’s rather embarrassing, so I’m working my way up to it.”

“Wanna hear my embarrassing story first?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

“I was asleep in the shower when you knocked,” Elodie said, taking another bite of toast to conceal her smile. "Woke up pinched and steamed like some kind of bruise-covered dumpling."

“What? How?”

“Just up and forgot to turn the water off, sat down for a second, and just… slept!”

“I’m just imagining you squatting at the edge of the bath like some sort of strange gargoyle,” Dorian said, laughing roundly. “You know that’s not safe right? You could have drowned.”

“I was so tired,” Elodie said, giggling. “And I don’t squat.”

“You poor exhausted thing.”

“Which is why you’re catching me looking like this,” she said, gesturing to herself.

“Don’t deride yourself like that,” Dorian said, grabbing up the jam in the center of the table to spread on his own toast. “Those dark circles under your eyes aren’t a bad look for you. You match the Commander now, at least.”

Elodie flicked a sesame seed from her toast across the table at Dorian’s face.

“Hey now, no need for violence. That seed did nothing to you.”

“Cullen actually…” Elodie hesitated. Was it okay to reveal to Dorian what Cullen had done for her last night? She decided that some vulnerability on her part might help Dorian feel comfortable telling her why he had come over so desperate for company.

Dorian’s gaze was darkening as her friend grew suspicious. Elodie realized she had paused for an inordinate amount of time, realized how it might be misconstrued. Plus, with the last sentence Dorian had said, it did not allude to a pleasant action from the Commander.

“No, no, no,” Elodie said, coming back to herself. “Nothing like that. Nothing bad. Cullen, uh, just… danced with me last night.”

“He did?” Dorian almost dropped the butter knife. “Tell me!”

“Yes, he did.”

“No I mean tell me details, you silly thing, details!”

“Well, did you hear about what the threats turned out to be at Celene’s party?”

“I… was drinking a lot last night,” Dorian said. “And after the first fifty snaps of canapes, I started ignoring Vivienne’s texts. So no.”

About thirty minutes later, after as brief a rundown as Elodie could get through with Dorian’s investigative questioning, she was finally back at the end of the night in her story. Dorian didn’t seem surprised at the throwdown, but Elodie reasoned that could be because Tevinter rivaled Orlais for intrigue.

“After the police questioned me, I went out to the balcony,” Elodie continued. “What with everyone gone already, Cullen found me and…” she stood up, moving to the bedroom, and got Cullen’s blazer.

Dorian smirked, as if he had expected nothing less. Elodie resisted the urge to pet the jacket.

“He put his blazer over my shoulders and told me he was glad I was okay, and we...”  _kissed_. "Almost kissed," she finished, suddenly shy. Dorian raised an eyebrow.

“You really did get makeup all over it, you minx. Make sure you dry clean that before you give it back to him.”

“Good idea.” Elodie held the blazer up to her face and inhaled. She was too tired for impulse control at this point, and she wanted to see if it still smelled strongly now that she was clean.

“Oh yeah. That’s not creepy at all, Inquisitor.”

“Hush,” Elodie said, glancing up with a grin. “Want to smell?”

“And be a dirty sniffer like you? No thanks.”

“Come on, Dorian.”

“Fine, don’t shove,” he muttered, his smile betraying how little he was actually annoyed at her pushing. Elodie held out the blazer and Dorian sniffed it. His expression went from beleaguered to enticed in the span of a few seconds. “Fuck.”

“I know, right?”

“Really though, why doesn’t he wear this cologne all the time?” Dorian demanded, inhaling once more. “Smells like a velvet painting having sex with a gardenia bush on top of a candlelit Chantry altar. Sinful and innocent and dark all in one complex aroma.”

“It does not smell like that at all,” Elodie laughed, sitting back down across from her friend. Despite the ridiculousness of the imagery, she still felt her cheeks warm at the thought. He smirked.

“So I guess we have a thing for strapping young Templars, then, eh?”

“At least for this one,” Elodie said, admitting it out loud in not so many words. She could feel Cullen’s keycard in the pocket of his blazer where she'd stashed it, and it made her cheeks burn.

“You could do worse than Cullen.”

Elodie narrowed her eyes at the vague, backhanded approval, and Dorian paused to grab one of her pieces of bacon. He smirked as he chewed, regarding her with a knowing gaze.

“How was the dancing, though, love?”

“It was beautiful. He convinced the DJ to play one song, one we both knew, and…” she blushed harder, if that were possible, when she remembered how he had kissed her ear. Little pecks, tiny little things that she knew were safe enough territory. Those kind of kisses could easily be written it off as nothing if Elodie chose to ignore it.

And then she'd begged him for more, and he'd caught her in a desperate, stormy kiss that still managed to be light and delicate in its heat.

“You know, even with your tattoos covering your cheeks, it is really obvious when you’re thinking naughty things. You look like you’re fit to overheat.”

“Thank you, talking about it has definitely eased how self-conscious I am,” Elodie laughed, bringing one hand up to press onto her cheek.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Dorian cooed. “I think it’s adorable.”

“I really like him, Dorian,” Elodie confessed. “But isn’t it… a bit dangerous?”

“That’s the fun part, isn’t it? The risk of falling for someone?”

“No, I mean, yes. But he’s… kind of like an employee, don’t you think?”

“He is not,” her friend scoffed, taking a bite of jam toast. “I know you lead the Inquisition and make a lot of its tactical decisions, but Cullen's experience in the military far exceeds your own. He’s not necessarily above you in rank, but he’s definitely not below you either.” Dorian’s mustache curved into a villainous smile. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Stop it. You sound like Sera,” Elodie said, hanging Cullen’s blazer across the back of her chair.

“Speaking of which,” Dorian sighed. “I’ll tell you some of the antics she got up to, if you want.”

“Yes please,” Elodie answered eagerly, sitting back down to her eggs.

“It was dreadfully fun for a few hours. Bull was keeping his phone on in case you needed backup, but Sera was queen of the drinking games for a while.”

“She does tend to get competitive quickly, doesn’t she?”

“Until she loses,” Dorian confirmed. “After that, after she got bored, it was harder to keep track of her. Our dear little Jenny found some other Jenny’s last night and fucked off. Did not tell anyone where she was going until we found her giggling and drawing a rather exaggerated caricature of Bull in the men’s bathroom.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. The extra fun part was, she had rigged it so that the next group of men coming in would get a pail full of glitter dumped on top of them. She _still_ did not tell me where she got so much of the stuff. It was an industrial sized bucket filled to the fucking brim.”

“No wonder your hair looks so festive.”

“It’s dirty and you know it,” Dorian replied, obviously pleased with the compliment.

“Is that the embarrassing part of the night?” Elodie laughed. “Because that just sounds like something you should’ve expected to me.”

“No,” Dorian said, holding his chin up as he reached for his coffee cup. “The embarrassing part is that after I sent her and Varric back to the dance floor, I locked myself and The Iron Bull in the bathroom and made out with him. For about an hour.”

Elodie inhaled in a gasp, choking on her mouthful of toast.

She tried to swallow and cough at once, her face turning redder as she struggled to breathe, and Dorian passed her a glass of water wordlessly across the table. After a few minutes, once she could breathe normally again, Elodie took a long swig of water and then leveled Dorian with a piercing stare.

“What. The hell.”

“I know, it doesn’t sound like me at all.”

"I thought you didn't like him!"

"I thought so too."

“Were you that drunk?”

“No,” Dorian laughed. “I was mostly sober by that point in the night, I burned off most of the alcohol by dancing. I only really started drinking when he left to go back to the dance floor and I realized what I’d done.”

“Because you regretted it?” Elodie whispered, feeling a bit ill. Dorian’s lips twisted in a grimace, and he shook his head.

“Because I really, _really_ enjoyed myself. And I could tell that he didn’t feel the same way.”

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“I just know,” Dorian avoided.

“It’s morning now, you know,” Elodie said, repositioning herself in her chair. “You could just go ask him, see if you're wrong.”

"I'm never wrong."

"But you could be."

“Even if I doubted my intuition, which I don't," Dorian postulated, "it’s just not in his nature to care about stuff like this.”

“That’s ridic-”

“You’ve heard his talks about the Qun before, Elodie, don’t be daft,” Dorian snapped. When she frowned, he immediately softened. “Sorry. But you have. He talks about that damned cult like he’s still a part of it. Vints and Qunari don't mix.”

Elodie paused, and she tried to choose her next words carefully.

“Maybe he used to, but things have been different lately,” she said, swirling the dregs of her coffee before tossing it back.

“Different how?” Dorian asked, his voice quiet.

Elodie shrugged.

“I was with him when we were trying to get resources from a band of Qunari off the coast. An oil tanker of storage crates, filled with ammunition, weapons, different types of all-terrain vehicles. He broke away from the Qun then, and since then he's spoken of it less and less. Even when I pry for information.”

"About damn time he wised up. He was too smart to stay a part of that machine."

"Dorian-"

“Wait. Where was I when this was going down?”

“I don’t know. Bull asked me to take Vivienne and Varric with us, so I did.”

“You really should invest in an SUV,” Dorian muttered.

“I like my sedan,” Elodie insisted. She refilled her mug with coffee, stirring in some milk and sugar. “Anyway. When we got to the harbor, we broke off into two groups to plant some homing beacons to help draw the oil tanker in without the cops in the area knowing. Bull gave the Chargers an easy balcony to snipe from, but we didn’t account for the tweakers. Some drugged up gang members caught us, both the people on land and the oil tanker out in the bay. We could see ships surrounding it, lighting fires along the waves. And fuck if everything didn’t just stink of rotting lyrium.”

“I bet Vivienne had the time of her life,” Dorian quipped, seemingly stung over being left out, but Elodie ignored him.

“Bull had the choice of texting Krem to pull the Chargers out while the oil tanker risked detonation, or leaving the Chargers there to die while we set out to save the Qunari shipments.”

Dorian paused, joking aside, and set his coffee cup down.

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“He obviously chose to save the Chargers,” Dorian replied. “Makes sense that he and Krem seem closer than ever.”

“He did save them, yes. And because of that, the shipments sank, the people died. We lost a potential alliance with the Seheron government."

Dorian, to his credit, was silent as Elodie set both elbows down on the table and leveled him with a steady gaze.

"Which is why I don’t want you to make light of his severed connection to that cult. He basically cut himself off from going back to the only home he’d known, ever. And that has to be difficult, learning to reframe your sense of family, your loyalties, your daily routine.”

“Fuck.”

“So… you should talk to him,” Elodie said, bringing herself back to her main point. “You can’t box people in, trying to guess their reactions. Talking can only lead to closure, whether it’s good or bad.”

“Have you talked with Cullen? Told the illustrious Inquisition Commander you’ve started falling for him?” Dorian asked, no trace of malice in his words.

Elodie fumbled.

“I, uh…” she paused, swallowing back the shame she felt at the question. They'd texted. They'd shared music. They'd kissed.

But-

“We haven’t talked about it, no.”

They sat there, both of them sick with longing and ashamed of it. Finally, Dorian spoke again.

“Scary, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Elodie agreed.

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

“I mean, if Cullen and I made out for an hour, though,” Elodie said, “I would assume we were at least attracted enough to each other to do it again sometime. Unless something horrible happened during.”

Dorian sighed wearily.

“Andraste's arse, Dorian, what happened during?”

“I might have told him that he could rough me up a little, if he wanted to.”

“You—”

“And that I wanted to lick all of the glitter off of his chest.”

“Dorian.”

“And that he’d have to pin me down and tear my clothes off if he wanted a glimpse of me before the night was over.”

Her jaw fell open. He was so calm, so blase. How Dorian could admit to this with such dignity, while sipping his coffee as if discussing the weather, was beyond Elodie.

“You just…” Elodie tried to picture it and couldn’t. “You just told him all of this? Just like that?”

“I might have insinuated that I wanted to see if he could put his money where his mouth was, what with all the threatening he does when we’re on roadtrips together. You've heard him!"

"I always heard you respond negatively, too, you sneak."

"Mmm. So I said that stuff. And then I took off his belt.”

“Dorian!”

“He seemed okay with it!”

“Then why do you think he didn’t enjoy it?”

“He…” Dorian cleared his throat. “He got a text before we could continue, said that he’d see me around sometime, told me not to wait up, and then he left the bar entirely.”

“Oh.”

Elodie and Dorian both fell silent, and the true weight of the situation was made apparent.

“I had only expected something physical, but it seems as if even that were too high a hope,” Dorian mumbled. He gave a little sigh. “This is why I don’t like opening up to people.”

“It’s not an easy thing to do,” Elodie agreed, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. He held hers back, but did not look up. “I, for one, think you’re amazing. He’d be lucky to get a chance to… go out with you,” she finished.

Even if Dorian didn’t expect it, he deserved someone who thought of him beyond carnal satisfaction. Her friend smiled, a ghost of playfulness at the corner of his lips.

“Of course you think so. You have excellent taste. But you know, not everyone is as discerning as you,” Dorian said.

Elodie laughed, pulling her hand away.

“I don’t know that you should decide anything until you sleep, at least,” she said with a sigh. “And I think I’m about at the end of my rope as far as staying awake goes, too.”

“Say no more, say no more,” Dorian finished the last of his coffee in a gulp and stood up. “I’ll let you rest.”

“You can stay, if you want,” she said. “The couch is always yours.”

“While I appreciate it, I am feeling better after our little breakfast chat,” Dorian said, running a hand through his hair. “At least, I feel good enough to be able to sleep without staying up mulling this over all day.”

“That’s good,” Elodie laughed. Dorian turned to go, as did she, but she stopped herself in the doorway to her bedroom. “Dorian.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad you opened up to me, you know.”

He paused, like he was surprised at the statement. Elodie didn't elaborate, she could tell that what she'd said before was enough. She merely stood there, smiling, to show him she was serious. The former model seemed to gather himself, and he gave a little laugh. It sounded pained, and after it hung in the air for a moment between them, he spoke.

“I never expected to find any friends here,” Dorian said quietly. “But you know I’d follow you anywhere you asked me to.”

Elodie's smile fell away, the shock of his statement hitting her hard, and she strode over to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. He hugged her back, so tight that her bruises and scrapes from the night before ached anew. But she didn’t care. She hugged him with a ferocity she hoped he understood. Ever since she'd taken him to reconcile with his father, he'd been by her side, and she knew that wasn't going to change anytime soon. She was happy he hadn’t been exposed to the drama of the night before, even if she’d missed him during.

“Come on now,” Dorian said, relaxing his arms. “I do detest dramatic confessions.”

“Well I won’t prolong this one,” she promised as they pulled away. “Go sleep.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dorian said, mock-saluting as he left her room. When the door shut completely and she could hear the elevator outside ping to take Dorian back down to his floor, Elodie turned to go back to her bed without deadbolting the door. On a whim, she grabbed Cullen’s blazer and brought it back into the bedroom with her. Too tired to be ashamed of herself, she snuggled into it and fell promptly asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Cassandra were my canon quiz's best friends and closest confidantes. She was on good terms with everyone, for the most part, but these two were her closest companions... maybe because for the longest time she thought both of them were unimpressed with her. They push her to be better.
> 
> I think they also have similar trust issues. But they just manifest them differently. That was an interesting thing I explored in my other, in-universe fic, if you're interested. Long, sorry, longer than R&R even...
> 
> Dorian's romance with Bull gets me every time, too. I didn't expect it/know about it when it first triggered. Imagine my shock hearing Bull talking about conquering, and then so easily being like "Oh oops heh" after Dorian's reaction. I always wanted to know how Elodie encouraged them to continue, if she ever got the chance!
> 
> Okay anything further and I'll chat in the comments instead of rambling here ;)


	24. Date A Languager

Elodie woke up around three in the afternoon, when the sun was starting to drift lazily from its peak back down towards the horizon. Glancing blearily at her watch, it told her she'd slept for eleven hours, give or take. It took her a few minutes of shifting under the sheets, of trying to get comfortable again, for her to decide if she was going to wake up fully or not. Part of her felt like she could still sleep if she forced herself to, but a larger portion of her mind was recharged and wide awake. Rolling over onto Cullen’s blazer, she grabbed for her phone.

No new messages.

She was a little disappointed until she remembered that Cullen had said he’d text only if he woke up before her. A vibrato of energy hummed through her and woke her entirely. An anomaly had happened. She had woken up before the Commander.

She hurriedly pulled a bit of defrizzing serum through her curls, then threw on a comfortable T-shirt and jeans. She grabbed the keycard from the blazer but left the blazer on her bed, still tangled in her sheets.

Elodie made her way down through the lobby, a quiet energy taking the place of the normal rush of activity that burst through Skyhold in the afternoon hours. Luckily, nobody stopped her or did more than duck their heads in acknowledgement. Elodie crossed the shining tile floor of the lobby over to where she could cut across to the other Skyhold tower. Cullen’s room was in that adjacent building, separated by a glassed-in walkway that doubled as a kind of greenhouse for the Inquisition horticulturists. It was where he took his snaps of flowers to send to her.

Elodie knew this because she had been to Cullen’s office before, once or twice to drop off information or remind Cullen about a war meeting when his phone was on silent and he was immersed in paperwork up to his elbows. She’d been to some of her companions rooms in the same building, too. Blackwall and The Iron Bull actually had rooms similar to Cullen’s, on the first and fifth floor respectively. Cullen’s was on the tenth, and it overlooked the parking lot and electric fence at their northern barrier. Leliana sometimes joked that Cullen could never sleep because he was so busy watching the parking lot, but Elodie wondered if it wasn’t true in a way.

Those rooms in the adjacent building, that secondary tower away from the front lobby separated from the hotel, were originally meant to be presentation rooms. They were windowless, with large floor spaces for executives to give lengthy speeches about productivity. However, some had been converted to live-in suites upon their discovery of the abandoned hotel. Miniature kitchens, living areas, and offices were created with some wall dividers. Most of them even had running water and half-baths.

Elodie had been to all but Cullen’s room when she’d first explored Skyhold, so she had kind of an idea of what to expect.

Bull’s space was rather dingy, with blackout curtains and a large king mattress, but very little else. To be fair, the Iron Bull was never hanging out there anyway; he was always in the kitchens, the gym, or the lobby bar. His room always smelled like Febreeze, a clean floral scent that kind of offset how raw the space looked.

Blackwall, by contrast, used his space to store his memorabilia. Anytime Elodie found anything pertaining to old infantries of the Wardens, she would bring it back for him and he’d do his best to bring it back to life. Polished medals, gently cleaned flags, varnished dogtags, even trucker hats— Blackwall tried to resurrect all items referencing the Wardens. His space always smelled like vanilla cigarillos, cedar chips, and leather.

But Cullen’s area…

Elodie had only ever been in the first part of his room that housed his office, but it had been very Cullen-esque, if there were such a word to be used. It suited him better than his tiny quarters at Haven had, and Elodie had immediately noticed he'd lit decorative candles along the mantles of his office. The smell of them had been rich and earthy, like some sort of moss. It mixed with a kind of acidic polish smell that she assumed was from the lacquer on his desk. It had been a quiet, scholarly scent. She'd liked it.

Cullen had converted the larger portion of the room into a researcher’s paradise. He had a huge desk, which looked too heavy to have been carted up the stairs but too big to have been put in the elevator, and an enormous collection of books. The few times she'd come to see him in his office, he had been either perusing the stacks of hardbacks or typing laboriously into what she assumed were timesheets and excel spreads for their requisition forms. Back behind a whiteboard on wheels was Cullen’s bedroom door, a frame he had cut out to connect two previously-unconnected spaces. That room, the one he normally kept behind the whiteboard, Elodie had never seen.

But maybe she’d get the chance today.

She’d asked Cassandra before why Cullen didn’t just go to the library to do his work. He was only a short walk away from Skyhold’s computer lab and rooms of bookshelves, but Cassandra had told her that he liked having everything he needed right within arms reach. As Elodie stepped into the elevator to get to the first floor lobby, she wondered perversely what Cullen kept within arm’s reach in his living quarters.

She shook her head at the thought, and the doors closed with a tiny ding.

Crossing the lobby, she could tell people were busy, but it seemed like the tension in the air before she’d gone to the Winter Palace had dissipated a little. People were being shown around the hotel by Josephine’s team of interns, and a few of the Templars were talking with new recruits asking for sign-up papers. It was actually a positive, bustling kind of busy. Elodie smiled at the people she crossed paths with, trying not to grip the keycard in her hand so tightly that it left marks in her palm.

Strolling through the greenery of the glass walkway, Elodie tried not to look suspicious. She was on a mission. She was not just going to bother the Commander and hope he had time to spend with her. This was not pure flirtation. There was a reason, a good reason, why she was going to visit Cullen in his room immediately after a long mission, a very good work reason indeed.

But what the hell was it?

As she walked, Elodie could smell rosemary and basil, with a little floral tinge. Interspersed with some of the herbs and plants were marigolds that she’d never noticed before. Elodie paused, stooping to touch one, and she considered sending a snap to Cullen. She'd caption it _you missed one_. Not wanting to risk waking him up, even for such a satisfying picture, she straightened and moved on. She could tell him about the flowers later. She moved like a woman on a mission.

However, Elodie lost her nerve when she came to the service elevator that she knew would take her to Cullen’s floor.

She had the keycard in her hand, could easily go up to see if he was awake, and yet she didn’t. For some reason, the thought of finding a sleeping Cullen was so intimate that she stood there, frozen, for too long. She struggled to wrack her brain to come up with an excuse, any excuse, to see him, but there was none. She was going to have to turn around if she couldn't come up with something and quick.

Thankfully, one of her temps startled her out of her stupor.

“Hey, Inquisitor,” the little scout said, giving her a nervous wave.

Elodie flinched, then put a hand to her clavicle and weakly waved back. The scout's brows knit together, concern lacing their face.

“D-do you need help with the elevator, ma'am?”

“Oh. No, thank you,” Elodie said, breaking into what she hoped looked like a relaxed grin. “I was just… um.”

The temp tilted their head, waiting.

“Are those reports you’re taking up to Commander Cullen?” Elodie asked, pointing to the scout's arms laden with accordion folders.

“Yeah,” they nodded and held up a few files, then opened one palm to reveal a handful of USBs. “He wanted some hardcopies and a few extra backups delivered to his desk right away.”

“I can take them,” she offered. The recruit seemed to jump at the chance, their expression almost guiltily happy when they handed over the paperwork.

“Cool. I mean thank you ma’am. I was missing field day for this.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Elodie answered. It wasn't a lie, either. This way, she would have an excuse to come to Cullen’s room, and if he was asleep she would just leave the papers with a note and sneak back out and tell herself she wasn't disappointed.

“I appreciate it! Have a good one, Inquisitor!”

“You too,” she said, finally moving forward to push the call button on the elevator.

* * *

She thought about knocking. Standing there in front of Cullen's door, it seemed like the polite thing to do. But then again, he had given her the keycard. Maybe he didn’t want her to knock. Maybe he was extending her the same vulnerability she’d shown him when she asked him to stay the night when she was sick. Elodie bit her lower lip at the thought. Sliding the keycard’s gold teeth into the slot, she opened the door.

Cullen’s office greeted her, a familiar sight. His papers were neatly stacked to one side on his desk, with a closed laptop taking up space on the other side. Elodie walked over to set the papers and USBs down, but then she caught sight of a sticky note clinging to the edge of one drawer. It looked like it was about to fall off. She picked it up before it could and set it directly on top of the laptop. In tight, neat print, the note on it was, in all caps:  _REPLY TO MIA’S EMAIL BY FRIDAY_.

The name sounded familiar. Underneath the name was a little, tightly looped scrawl: _thank her for the package._

Below that there were three bullets.

_\- ask Elodie about her schedule next week_

_\- Harding comes back Wednesday_

_\- make the visiting pros and cons list before Thursday afternoon_

It was strange, feeling the surge of happiness at finding a little proof such as this that Cullen even mentally referred to her by her first name. In front of everyone, he tended to use her title, her codename, and she loved hearing him call her Elodie when they were alone together. Knowing she was still Elodie even when he was by himself was a flattering concept.

She set down the files and made sure the sticky note was pressed flat to the top of the closed laptop, where it was not at risk of falling and being lost on the floor.

Moving away from the office, her nerves redoubled. The whiteboard was wheeled to the side, the door to Cullen’s room in plain sight. Unlocked, she assumed. She could hear noise from the adjacent room, the sound of a television playing low. Her heartbeat raced. Knocking on the door softly with her knuckles, she tested the doorknob without waiting for a response.

“Cullen?” she called, opening the unlocked door just a hair. She heard rustling and found him sitting in his chair by the window.

“Oh. Hey,” he said, smiling. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“I thought you were going to text me when you woke up,” she accused playfully, coming in and closing the door behind her. His room was cool, the soft hum of the air conditioner adding a quiet layer of white noise to the muted conversation of the television.

“I did text. It said you read it,” Cullen said, frowning. He brought out his phone, and then blanched. “Oh. Mmm. That makes much more sense.”

“What does?”

“I texted Dorian instead of you."

"Wh- how?"

"I wasn't thinking I guess. Just woke up and all. Your chats were right next to each other in my phone.”

“Oh no,” Elodie chuckled, moving to sit across from Cullen on the other side of the small table. He had a glass of water, half drank, and his tablet PC in front of him. He was playing on an app of some sort. From where Elodie sat, it looked like Scrabble. “Did you say anything inappropriate?” she asked.

“No, nothing like that,” Cullen said breathlessly, giving a sheepish grin. “I texted 'Awake now, you're welcome to drop by' thinking it was to you.” He bit his lip. “That explains why he sent me that game request and told me he planned to stay in bed all day.”

“What game is it?”

“It’s like Scrabble, but you play it through an app online.” Cullen shrugged, but Elodie could tell he enjoyed it by the way his eyes narrowed in competitive aggression when it notified him Dorian had moved.

"Are you winning?"

"For now," Cullen grinned. “It’s been nice, not having to do anything today.”

“Did you already eat?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been up for a while. Went to check in with Leliana, she’s supposed to be getting some reports to me sometime today.”

“I thought you said you weren’t doing anything today,” Elodie said, smirking.

“I said I didn’t _have to_ , not that I wasn’t still going to,” Cullen replied. “Besides, I requested those reports two days ago. I should have had them by now.”

"And what did Leliana say to that?"

"She asked if I knew the Canticle of Silence."

"Is... that all?" To Elodie, that seemed like getting off easy where Leliana was concerned.

"She also suggested rather brashly that I familiarize myself with it by leaving her in peace, if you must know," Cullen mumbled, obviously a bit embarrassed by the retort. It must have included vulgar imagery he'd rather not repeat, if Elodie knew what a tired Leliana was capable of dredging up when pressed. Elodie giggled at the image of Leliana teasing the Commander with that tongue-in-cheek false smile of hers.

“I left some files and USBs on your desk outside. Could those be what you're waiting on?”

“Maybe. I’ll go check in a minute.”

“Oh,” she said. She looked around his room briefly, noting that he had a beautiful red comforter on his bed. His pillows were aligned neatly, his sheets drawn down but the bed made, and Elodie felt a twinge of shame at the messy nest state she'd left her room in. Cullen clicked off the tablet and stood up.

“Wait here.”

“What?”

“Instead of playing this online version of Scrabble, you and I could play the real thing in person. If you have time for a quick game, of course,” he said by way of invitation, pausing on his way to his bedside table. Elodie smiled.

“Sure! Grab the game, Commander.”

Cullen grinned, opening his bedside table and squatting down to look through its contents for the game.

“I’m glad you said yes,” he confessed. “I’ve trounced Dorian twice in Words With Friends so far. He keeps complaining about the program not knowing Tevene.”

Elodie snickered.

“Sounds like something he’d say when he's losing.”

“Well, you know Dorian. Ah, here we are.”

Elodie tried not to watch the way Cullen shifted his shoulders as he lifted other boxes and books stacked inside his cabinet. He looked slighter without his ruff of fur, but Elodie liked the vulnerability it lent him. She realized she should try to be more conversational and cleared her throat.

“You just have Scrabble on hand?”

“Well, no,” Cullen paused, then glanced back at Elodie with a helpless smile. “My sister sent it here, as part of a care package. I haven’t actually opened the game itself yet.”

“Oh! You’ve been in contact with your sister?”

“Yeah.” While he was struggling to extricate the box from the little cabinet, Elodie pushed his tablet over to the side to clear a space for their game. “Actually, after you got sick, I felt like I should start talking to Mia again more regularly. Let her know I was okay.”

“Did you send her Skyhold’s address?”

“No, because then she might visit," Cullen said. His tone made Elodie snort. "All joking aside, it's not a good time for her to drop by. What with Orlais in a tizzy and no news from the Wardens. So I had her send stuff to a PO box in town. I didn’t expect to go there and find this huge crate full of homemade cookies, some board games, a magnetic dart board, and about thirty printed photos of my nephews and nieces,” Cullen said, chuckling.

"Show me the pictures later?"

"Definitely, if you have the time."

“I'll make time to see pictures of the infamous Mia and her loving brood," Elodie teased. "So where are the cookies?”

“Those did not last the day,” he admitted, making Elodie laugh at how serious a tone he adopted.

“Good to know your priorities are in order.”

Cullen bit his lower lip, drawing it between his teeth as he smirked. He straightened, then grabbed his jacket from the edge of the bed and slipped it on before returning to her.

“I’ll make sure she sends enough for me to share with you next time, if you like?”

"Have you told her about me?"

"A little," he said quietly.

“Then yes. I would love that,” Elodie said with a grin. "So long as you let me thank her too."

"Email her at your own risk, Inquisitor."

Cullen smiled back at her and set the game down between them.

“I used to play games with Mia when we were younger. Scrabble, Catan, and chess were our favorites to challenge each other with. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won, which was all the time. She could never have a bad set of letters, or unlucky settlements, or poor strategies.”

“She sounds terrifyingly competent.”

“You have no idea. My brother and I had to have a dictionary beside us when we played to check her words when we played this. Even combined, we weren’t smarter than her,” Cullen said fondly.

That smile. Elodie had never seen him smile so tenderly before in the daylight. It was so sweet that she had to glance away, look for something else to do. Taking the box from Cullen’s hands, she used a fingernail to split the tape on the lid and opened it up.

“Is Mia older than you?”

“Yes."

"Only one sibling?"

"Nope, I have a younger brother and sister, too. Branson and Rosalie.”

“Pretty names.”

“I’ll tell them you said so,” he said with a chuckle. “Here, choose one tile.”

Elodie swallowed hard, the beginning of an idea crystallizing at the edge of her mind like frost on a windowpane. It might not work, she might not get lucky enough with her tile picks. But if she did...

“Who goes first?” she asked.

“Whoever has an A tile, or whoever gets closest to A,” Cullen answered. He set his down, revealing a _j_.

“What if I have a blank one?” Elodie muttered, turning the blank tile over in her fingers.

“That’s an automatic go-first tile,” he chuckled. “Here, put it back. Draw seven.”

“Have you always liked word games?” Elodie pulled seven random tiles out of the bag and arranged them in front of her. _W Y E V S O S._ Not a great first hand. She laid down the tiles to spell _wove_ and grabbed four new ones.

“I like any game that forces me to think. I much prefer chess over Scrabble, but Dorian still has my chess board from the last time we played together. So this is our only option.” He spelled out _jibes_ using her _e_ , then pulled four new tiles as well. “I’m not that good at word games, to be honest.”

“Oh, perfect. Neither am I,” Elodie laughed.

“Do you care if we keep track of points, then?” he asked. The number two pencil nub included in the box hovered in Cullen's hand over the little notepad before him.

“No,” she answered with a smile. “I’m not super invested in who wins.”

“Neither am I,” he echoed.  His tone was reassuring, the verbal version of quick squeeze on the ribs. Elodie beamed, her heart leaping into her chest. Cullen looked up at her, blurting, “Did you come here immediately after you woke up?”

“Yes,” Elodie tried rearranging her tiles a third time. No luck, no good words. She'd have to wait. And pray.

“You didn’t want to eat something first?”

After her brunch, Elodie still wasn’t hungry, but she merely shrugged instead of saying so.

“I said I would come by right away, so I did. No thanks to you and your botched message-sending, ser,” she teased.

“I didn’t know,” he protested kindly. “But I’m glad you came up anyway. It’s nice to have you in my room.”

Elodie glanced up quick.

“I mean,” Cullen flushed pink at the boldness of the statement and stammered out an addendum. “It’s just nice you’re around, is all. To have someone else to be mediocre at Scrabble with besides Dorian.”

“Mediocre. That’s a decent word. I bet it would be worth a lot of points if we were keeping score,” Elodie laughed. Her smile faded a bit, her heart beating fast in her chest. “I’ll have to challenge you to chess next time, if I can remember how to play.”

“Sounds like you just did,” Cullen replied, looking up at her from across the table. He wore a grateful smile, one that made his eyes glow warm in the soft artificial lighting.

“So, did you sleep well?” Elodie asked, setting her tiles down. _Bone_.

“As well as could be expected,” Cullen said. “When I woke up, I got some new renovation details for Skyhold squared away today, as per your requests. That was fulfilling.”

“Thank you for that,” she said, noticing that he’d avoided talking about his rest. He spelled _sick_ using his own _s_.

“How about you?” he asked, picking new tiles.

“I…” Elodie swallowed, remembering how she’d snuggled into his jacket. “I slept better than I have in a while,” she confessed rather guiltily. Cullen didn’t seem to pick up on her tone.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

She spelled out _calm_ using his _c_ , and didn’t say anything. On top of staying silent, she tried not to think of anything either. She knew if she did, she would blush.

But it was so difficult keeping her mind clear when her favorite person was sitting across from her, forearms resting on the edge of the table as he leaned forward.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of today?” Cullen asked, and Elodie glanced up as she dug in the plastic bag for new letters. He looked relaxed, at ease, and open. She liked seeing him this way. He smelled fresh and clean, like amber shower gel, and he wore no Kevlar. He seemed to keep his room chilly on purpose, she noticed, hugging her arms to herself as the air conditioning hummed. Elodie glanced away as he spelled out _badge_.

“No plans. Not yet, anyway,” she said, biting her lip. “But... I was hoping we could spend more time together.”

He glanced up, as if he were surprised she’d say it so casually.

“I-I’d like that,” Cullen stammered, sounding almost relieved.

“Yeah? Me too,” Elodie said, moving her tiles to spell _messy_.

“You… said that already,” he said, quiet, facing down at the board with a smile Elodie wondered if she was meant to see.

His cheeks were tinged a soft pink, and he seemed to be trying to very gently control himself. Like he was fighting the urge to stare up at her and say more than he should. Elodie realized she might have been projecting, though, because she wanted desperately to tell him how she felt.

But that really just begged the question: how did she feel, exactly?

He set the tiles down, spelling _curse._ Elodie stayed silent, wanting him to say more if he had something else to say, not wanting to put her foot in her mouth in this moment.

Cullen as her coworker was intelligent, no-nonsense, and consistent; it was why she respected him, but also why she never got the impression until recently that he was fond of her. He got shit done, with little complaint, and was always the first to suggest force or authoritative action.

Or the first to tell her flat-out no.

Because of this, she’d thought Cullen to be a bit aggressive when she first started working with him. He’d question her respectfully, insist on increasing their forces first and foremost, and had always been either in the gym overseeing training regimens or at the shooting range. At Haven, she'd hardly ever gotten a chance to see him not in work-mode.

But then… right before Haven’s demolition, Elodie had overheard him with a batch of new recruits. She'd snuck past the netting by the shooting range and seen Cullen pulling a few of the crying ones aside. He'd taken the rifles firmly from their hands, cleared the weapons, and then set the rifles down in the gravel away from where the recruits could grab for them.

It had been three recruits. Those young men and women had joined the Inquisition after their neighborhoods had been attacked by corrupted drones, had been the only survivors, and they were physically and emotionally shaken. Elodie hadn't heard what had triggered their breakdown, but the recruits had been in the middle of sobbing to the point of hyperventilation.

And as Elodie watched, Cullen had crouched down to their level to speak with them. He'd spoken to them with his voice calm and even, with his shoulders squared and his jaw tight. He had shown them how to breathe in and out, how to slow their sobs, how to refocus their minds. He'd been patient and kind and had looked on them as someone who not only acknowledged their grief... but as someone who shared it.

The aggressiveness she thought she saw originally? It was protective, almost penant, in nature.

Cullen was the first to sacrifice his time and energy to help others, like it was a physical need of his to _not_ put himself first. He was the first to say he would do something himself, was the first to volunteer to set an example, and he was the first out of all the advisors to have told Elodie she'd made him proud.

Once Elodie saw that solicitous goodwill underlying his stern exterior, she could not ignore the magnetic pull she’d felt towards him. It had started as friendship, morphed into deep attraction, and now? Secretly, although she could barely admit it to herself, she wanted nothing more than to protect Cullen too.

“Difficult tiles?” Cullen asked.

Elodie blinked up at him, snapped free from her musings.

“Oh. Yeah. Kind of.” She shook her head, running her hands through her curls. “I don’t get how people who play this game professionally can spell words with like five _z_ ’s,” she muttered.

“Do you have five _z_ ’s?” Cullen chuckled. “Statistically, I don’t think that’s even possible.”

“I don’t,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him in a playful glare.

“I could help you, if you want,” he offered.

“That would be cheating, Commander. And that would be…”

She set her tiles down, spelling _lame_.  He snickered as she drew new tiles from the bag.

“Fair enough.”

He immediately placed his tiles down.

_Jinx_.

Elodie shot him a fake-offended pout, and Cullen had the audacity to glare back in a challenge. She could barely maintain such smouldering eye contact, and she glanced around the board for a sense of relief. After a second, a tile caught her eye. She couldn’t believe her luck. She had a few letters that might, if she played things right, lead to what she’d wanted to hint at for the past few minutes. She set down her tiles and spelled _girl_ , then sat back in her chair.

“So… just out of curiosity,” she probed, shuffling in the plastic bag for new letters. “Did you have any, ah… ties before you came to the Inquisition? Things holding you elsewhere?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…”

Elodie glanced down at her lap while he set his tiles down.

_Meekly_.

She clenched her jaw, then looked at her own new letters.

Elated, she realized she could spell what she wanted to. She’d been gambling each time, keeping a few letters in her hand that might serve her purposes, and it had paid off.  Thank the Maker. A little too late, she realized she’d started to give an example and then had trailed off.

“Did you leave anybody behind in Kirkwall, for instance?” she finished.

“Not really.” Cullen shrugged, taking the plastic bag from her side and drawing himself some new letters. “I didn’t make many friends when I was stationed in the Circle there, and my family’s in Ferelden.”

“Ah.” Elodie was nervous. She felt like she’d swallowed crickets and that they were bouncing about inside her abdomen. Her hands were fidgety, and she clenched them into fists before stretching them out once more. Before she could lose her nerve, she began to set her tiles down. “So nobody special? Nobody that you wanted to be your…”

_Girlfriend_.

Cullen narrowed his eyes at her, then glanced down at the board and caught her meaning. Elodie drew in her lower lip, trying not to look anxious. If he was offended, she’d apologize and play it off. Just joking, ha ha. But then Cullen looked up at her with an almost mischievous expression, one eyebrow raised.

“Not in Kirkwall, no.”

“Mmm,” Elodie suppressed a nervous giggle. “How about back in Kinloch?”

“No.”

“In Haven?”

“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I did happen to meet someone special in Haven,” he said. His rich tone and soft implication sent a pulse of arousal through Elodie’s spine. How could he sound like that so easily, when just a second ago he had seemed so shy? She swallowed, holding his gaze, and then turned her eyes back to the board. He could be talking about someone else, she reasoned. He might not be talking about her.

“Is that right?” she commented.

Elodie hated how hopeful she still sounded, even while trying to play like she was disinterested. Cullen, however, seemed pleased at her words. A noise escaped him, a tiny, toneless breath that Elodie took as a noise of surprise.

“Yes. She’s very special.”

“Did she come with us to Skyhold?”

“Yes,” he said, and it sounded like he was smiling. Elodie didn’t look up to check.

“So why didn’t you ask this person out in Haven?” Elodie mused.

“Because,” Cullen said, his tone making it seem like the answer to that should be obvious.

“Because why?”

“Because she’s out of my league, and we both know it,” he answered quietly, and when Elodie flicked her eyes back up to assess what he meant, she noticed he had averted his gaze. It was like they were playing eye-contact tag, the two of them too shy to speak outright but too full of longing to end the conversation.

He was smiling down at the board, his chin resting on one hand. He seemed lost in thought, but happily so. Remembering himself, Elodie could see him suppressing whatever his wandering thoughts had just conjured up. He blinked quickly, then looked back up at her with a blank, puppy-like expression. “We should… finish our game, right? My turn?”

“Yes,” she whispered, feeling as if she were on a very tall precipice. There were a thrill in standing there, knowing that if you just tipped forward a bit, you would freefall with nothing to stop you. There was also an intense fear that chased after the happiness, a kind of gnawing warning sign blaring in the back of her mind.

_If you do this, there’s no undoing it_ , she thought. _If you tell him, it changes things, and you don’t get to change them back._

She watched as Cullen lined up his tiles and prepared to set them down. Arguably, him having skimmed his fingers over her sternum while she lay feverish and moaning at his touch could have already changed them. The way he’d called her when he'd felt alone, when he'd needed someone to soothe him, could have already changed them. The way he’d kissed her when she’d begged him to had definitely already changed them.

What was one verbal confession in a long string of wordless ones?

“You said you wanted to spend some more time together, right?” he asked, and then cleared his throat. “Is there something in particular you'd like to do today?”

“I…”

It _would_ change things to tell Cullen she was falling for him, and falling hard, but who said that was a bad thing? Elodie had found herself thinking of Cullen so often that it was beginning to be a problem. She ached for him. Maybe, through the quiet moments they’d both taken advantage of, things had already changed. Maybe neither of them wanted to say it and risk breaking it by making it real.

Cullen cleared his throat and set his tiles down, and Elodie let out a little exhale at his word.

_Please_.

“I want to take a walk with you,” she blurted. Wide-eyed, Cullen looked confused at the request. Elodie swallowed and tried again. “There’s an overgrown bridge right on the edge of Skyhold I’ve been wanting to check out. It looks really pretty from afar, and there might be a nice view of the city from the hill.”

_And it’s relatively secluded_ , she thought, but didn’t have the courage to say.

“We send patrols out there pretty regularly,” Cullen answered. “If there were anything of interest, we would have—”

Elodie grabbed some tiles, assuming they were pretty much finished with the pretense of Scrabble at this point.

“We might find something new if you and I go walking now,” she said, rearranging the tiles facing away from her.

_Hint ~int._

"Pretend that's an  _h_ ," Elodie said, grinning. "I couldn't find another tile quick enough."

Cullen glanced down at the board, a look of amused disbelief on his face and gave a little laugh that sounded like he was more nervous than he was letting on.

“I-I see. Then, shall we make our way there now?”

“Yeah. Let me just go upstairs to my room and grab a jacket.”

“You…” Cullen shrugged, bringing one arm up to rub the back of his neck. “Your room is in the opposite direction of the bridge. You can just borrow a jacket of mine, if you like.”

“You’re sure you’re fine with me collecting your clothes?” Elodie asked.

“As long as you don’t mind that my clothes are too big for you,” he replied, shooting her a smile that made Elodie wonder what he had been like in high school. Sometimes he had such a boyish charm about him.

“They’re comfy that way,” she answered him, standing up to follow him to his closet. When he opened it, Elodie had to suppress a primal urge to inhale. Cologne or no, Cullen smelled _good_.

It had to be his pheromones, as animalistic as that sounded. She couldn’t place the scent that existed just past the soft laundry smell, but it was delightful. She would wear absolutely any article of clothing he gave her, she decided. He flipped through some of his coats hanging to the left and found a wine-red hoodie to hold out for her.

“How about this one?”

It had a sword with flames stitched onto the front in gold and white thread, and the strings that tightened the hood were tied in knots with the ends frayed. There were some holes along the seams of the hem at the edge of the sleeves, some general wear-and-tear to it. What looked like a little splash of bleach spots at the very bottom flecked upwards like tiny pink constellations. It was obviously well-loved.

“It’s perfect,” she said, reaching for it. Cullen smiled, tossed her the garment, and then closed his closet before turning back to her.

“It’s a bit old, back from when I was stationed at Kinloch.”

“You kept it all this time?”

“Of course,” Cullen grabbed his phone from the table as Elodie pulled the hoodie over her head. “I didn’t bring much with me to Kirkwall after… all of that. This sweatshirt was one of the only things I grabbed on my way out.”

“I’ll be gentle with it,” Elodie promised, smoothing the soft cotton over her arms. The sleeves hung past her hands, the garment way too big. Unable to resist, she hugged herself and sighed happily.

“That color suits you,” Cullen murmured. Elodie opened her eyes, pleased, but he turned to open the door leading back to his office before he could see her smile. “I’m going to double check the reports, see if they’re the ones I requested from Leliana,” he said, already out the door. “You’re more than welcome to wait on me here, or go call the elevator. It’s up to you.”

“I’ll wait here,” Elodie said, turning in a circle in Cullen’s room. She took advantage of the small moment, noting little details that made her like him all the more.

His bed was made, the sheets turned down and pillows arranged just so, which she'd already noted. His bed actually looked bigger than hers upon closer inspection. Elodie was tempted to jump onto it, to measure with her body, but she refrained. On his nightstand, there were two books. One was a copy of a veteran’s memoir, but the other was a dog-eared Chantry devotional with a ballpoint pen hooked in the front cover. A flash of longing, a desire to open the devotional to see what it was Cullen journaled about as he prayed, but it faded as soon as it came. Elodie crossed her arms. She didn't want to invade his religious privacy even in her own mind.

Beneath that, on the floor, lay two puzzle books; some of their pages in the middle were bookmarked. She wondered if that was what Cullen did when he couldn’t sleep but had finished his work. Glancing over at his dresser, a shiny piece of metal caught Elodie’s eye. She moved over to the dresser, the sound of typing signaling that Cullen was quickly checking over the contents of the USBs she’d set on his desk.

On top of a clean, folded towel, there stood a small, familiar-looking trinket. It looked like one of the many tiny statuettes she collected and then had no idea what to do with. Yeah. This one reminded her of a figurine she’d found several months ago when she’d been traveling with Solas out off the parkway by the Hinterlands. That had been the first useless statue she'd picked up, some forgotten metal toy squirreled away in a tree trunk of all places.

A little metal mabari.

But this one in Cullen's room couldn't be that old one, because that old one had been missing one of its back paws, and therefore stood unreliably when you set it on any less-than-flat surface. This one was clearly standing upright on the terrycloth. Also, of all the things to have brought with him from Haven, she doubted Cullen would have focused on a tiny broken dog over anything else. Still... picking it up out of curiosity, Elodie turned the little statuette over in her hands just to check.

Holding it to the light, she could see that the mabari figure had a mechanical pencil's eraser (cut to size) glued to the left back leg right at the stump of its ankle in place of a missing back paw.

The memory came flooding back, a long-forgotten moment that Elodie hadn't even put weight on in her own mind. It had been back in Haven, a week after Cassandra had released Elodie from the makeshift prison cell she'd made in the laundry room. At that point in time, Elodie had still not known what to do with a blogger, a hacker, and a former soldier at her utmost disposal. She'd tried to befriend them, out of desperate longing to make some sort of connection to the people who expected her to save the world, but it had not always gone well.

And this... it had been during one of those awkward befriending times that she'd given the little broken mabari to Cullen at the war table. She’d even made some stupid joke about Ferelden werewolf legends and dog-lords. The memory gnawed at her. It had been before she realized it was an off-color reference, to be fair, and nobody told her it wasn't appropriate... and they most definitely should have. Leliana had laughed while Josephine could do nothing more than blush, and Cassandra had made a little disgusted scoff in the back of her throat. But Cullen had given Elodie a polite little smile, reached for the thing with dignity, and pocketed it before going straight back to discussing the Fallow Mire Water Treatment Facility.

So it seemed that Cullen had… actually kept it?

No. He couldn't have. This couldn't be the same mabari figurine she’d given him back in Haven when they barely knew each other. She set it back down on its side, its dumb doggy cast-iron face smiling up at her as she did so.

“Elodie?” Cullen called from the other room, making her flinch. “You ready?”

“Y-yeah,” Elodie answered. “Let’s go.”

Before she could give it a second thought, she moved to meet Cullen at the door and left the little mabari figurine safely nestled in the beige terrycloth towel waiting for its owner to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** clarification note *****  
> "Field day" for most kiddos -- a day you run around outside with water balloons and three-legged races and hula-hoop toss and it's a fun time.
> 
> "Field day" for most military peeps -- a day you clean your entire room top to bottom, spotless, before you get inspection done, and it's not a fun time.  
> ************
> 
> Catch that title reference? <3


	25. That Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I've gotten into the headspace of soft-pocalypse flirty times. Let's get back to it!

Elodie found that she could no longer force words out once they stepped from Cullen's quarters. She chewed her lower lip as they crossed the parking lot together, trying to find something to say. Nearby, troops were being head-counted and ushered into an armored vehicle as Lysette had them sound off. They were scheduled for some raid or other today, just to clear the abandoned apartment complexes in the nearby area in order to house refugees when they next arrived. When Cullen passed by, Lysette saluted, but when Lysette saw Elodie she stood even straighter. Even in an old, comfy hoodie, Elodie was still the Inquisitor. Elodie gave her a nod and a smile, then turned back to face the cracked sidewalk that would lead them around the hotel.

And yet they remained silent.

Elodie and Cullen both took long, confident strides, both seemingly eager to get away from where they had to be so aware of themselves. Elodie crossed her arms over her chest, not trusting the space between them to keep her from brushing her fingertips against the back of his hand.

Once they reached the sidewalk, cracked and pushing up weeds in its state of abandonment, they took a left. Guards on duty nodded at them as they passed, but said nothing. Cullen and Elodie walked on in silence along the ghost of a lost highway, nature already retaking what once was presumably a central hub of activity. Skyhold Hotel must have once been surrounded by gas stations, factories, or shopping districts— but there was nothing to be seen now. The ruins of buildings and cars were all blanketed by ivy and lichen, or lay in uncovered piles like skeletal remains of beasts long since dead.

They walked by another rotation of guards, posted at the back entrance, waving in a truck that was bringing food and perishable goods to the back freezers. They didn’t seem to notice the Inquisitor, and Cullen didn’t make an effort to acknowledge the recruits in any way. He seemed preoccupied, which hadn’t exactly been why Elodie had wanted to take a walk with him in the first place.

Elodie slowed when Cullen finally slowed, her feet matching his pace, their breath mingling as they walked on. It was cold enough that they could see the air exhaled around them in soft misty wisps, but not so cold that it was unpleasant. Neither of them spoke, both too lost in individual thought. More specifically, Elodie wanted to confess her feelings, so she’d been trying to parse out exactly what those feelings were.

Admiration? Yes, but not just that. Attraction? Yes, but not just that either. A sense of security? An undeniable lonely feeling when she didn’t have signal to text him back on the road? A desire to ask him about his day, not only about their reports?

Yes, but not just any of that, and yet still _all_ of that. The way she felt about Cullen was layered and sweet, and it was taking her forever to unwrap it to get to the truth of its center. As if that in itself weren't confusing enough, on top of everything else, Elodie was utterly consumed with the thought of kissing him.

Until recently, she hadn’t indulged in fantasies about the Commander in any way. She’d been attracted to him for some time, there was no denying that. But she’d kept it clean, even in her mind, so as not to complicate things. And to be sure, imagining him pressing into her from behind as he kissed her neck during war meetings would only complicate things.

Now, as they walked through the chilly mist in order to talk about where they stood with each other, Elodie _felt_  she had already been complicated. The imagery of how sweet it would be to capture his lips with hers, to run her tongue along the white line of his scar, was too acute to ignore. How would his hands feel along her waist? How hard would he kiss her back? Would he use tongue, or would she have to show him how deeply she liked to be kissed?

She blushed. Elodie was almost positive that Cullen was entertaining the same thoughts. Well... perhaps more innocent thoughts. At the very least, thoughts of them together. But even as happy as that made her, there were difficulties in it all the same.

One difficulty should they decide to be together was that she was Dalish. Maybe he wouldn’t mind it as much as some did, but Elodie wasn’t stupid. It still factored into how this would go down, even if neither of them admitted it aloud. At best, some people would talk here and there, but it wouldn't affect them. At worst, it would tarnish his reputation and render her a walking stereotype. Neither option was particularly appealing.

The other issue, however, was that she and Cullen still had to work together. Not just work in an office, either; they were running an armed force that was trying to counter a terrorist group from threatening all of Thedas.

So where did that leave time to fall in love? Or, if that were too premature a notion, where did that leave time to indulge in something as sweet as a kiss?

Elodie was trying to figure out what to say to him, how to broach this kind of thing when it had been hinted at so heavily for the past month _at least_ , when they reached the overgrown bridge. It was almost like they had been teleported there without her knowing, but she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. It was only a five minute walk from the parking lot, after all.

At one time, the bridge had been a meshed-in walkway over the two-lane, a way for pedestrians to get over to the other side of the road without having to slow traffic. Its wires had long since corroded. Whatever had destroyed this part of the world had been acidic enough to eat away and rust the frames of metal until they’d crumbled under their own weight long ago. The only thing left over on the concrete and metal now was a stain of red where the steel cage and plastic awning used to hang. The wind pulled at Elodie’s curls as they walked up a few of the steps, and she hugged the hoodie tighter about her arms.

“It’s a, uh, nice day,” Cullen said, and Elodie stopped. She turned, part of her thinking she’d misheard him.

“What?”

“I just thought…” Cullen cleared his throat. “You seem like you have something on your mind.”

“I suppose I do,” Elodie said, moving back up the steps. "I'm just... hmm."

Cullen followed, one hand out on the ivy-covered railing. When Elodie got to the top step, she turned to look out over the jagged teeth that lined the skyline. A city long lost, but nature was slowly cleaning it with her green fingertips. Evergreens grew large and looming to their left, past the moss-covered signs detailing speed limits nobody would adhere to nowadays. Standing up so high, it was almost like being on a balcony. Cullen stood almost as close to her side now as he had last night at Halamshiral.

“Take your time,” he said softly.

Elodie inhaled, reaching out to grip the cold, ivy-covered railing, and then blurted it all out in a rush.

“Cullen, I can’t stop thinking about you and I don't know what to do about it.”

“B-beg pardon?”

“Ever since you gave me the scented oil you made,” she said, still facing out over the old highway, “I can’t get you out of my head. You're a huge distraction.”

She drew in another deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. Since she’d gotten the hardest part out of the way, everything else wanted to follow at once, wanting to fall from her lips like rain from a stormy sky. But she bit her lower lip and tried to piece together something more coherent to give him before she said something stupid.

Cullen gave a noise of surprise, a small breath that Elodie couldn’t read into, and she immediately strove to clarify.

“I find myself wanting to be around you as more than just your coworker,” she said quietly. “As more than just your friend. I think of it when we text outside of the group chat, when we talk late at night on the phone. Now, even when we're planning for our next sting operation, I find myself watching your hands over the war table. You have... lovely hands,” she finished lamely, bringing her hand up to cover her face with her palm in embarrassment.

"Thank you," he answered, sounding completely shocked. Elodie dragged her hand down her face so that she could see him better.

"That's it? Thank you?"

“I… can’t say I haven’t thought about it too,” Cullen said softly, leaning forward so that he was resting his forearms beside where Elodie’s hands gripped at the railing.

“Does it bother you?” she asked, desperate to know. “The fact that I-”

“No,” he answered before she could finish. “I was actually quite worried that you thought this was inappropriate.”

“That what was? The fact that you thought of it too?” Elodie whispered.

“No,” Cullen repeated, his tone slightly drier, as if he were frustrated at himself. “Well, yes. But I was mainly referring to things like… last night. How far it went. How much I... I wasn’t sure if you-” he cleared his throat. “I know that my actions probably came off as unprofessional, and I wasn't sure if you were alright with it.”

“Did…” Elodie paused, turning to fully face Cullen.

She touched a hand to his forearm to try to get him to look at her, but he stared resolutely out at the fog-covered highway. Under her gaze, she could see the tension in his brow release, if only a bit. He looked… almost sad.

“Cullen. You didn’t think I brought you out here to ask you to stop flirting with me, did you?” Elodie asked, her voice weak.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged and brought a hand up to his forehead. “Maybe.” He paused, drawing his hand down over his mouth, and then seemed to remember something. Turning to Elodie, he added, “You know that I would, if you asked me to. Stop, I mean.”

“Do you want to stop?” Elodie asked, confused at the turn in conversation.

“No! No, I just…” Cullen shook his head, one hand moving up to drag across the nape of his neck. “I had some ideas of what I should say if this ever came up between us, but it’s coming out all wrong.”

“I like you, Cullen,” Elodie said firmly, gripping the sleeve of his jacket gently to drive her point home. He looked down at her then, his eyes wide and unassuming. Who would have imagined a hardened soldier could look so vulnerable? Elodie’s heart skipped a beat, leaving her weak. “I don’t want to pressure you, but I really, _really_ like you.”

“I don’t want to pressure you either,” Cullen said, his brow knitting together. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think…”

“What?”

“Look, you’re the Inquisitor,” he bit out, and Elodie gasped as his hand came to rest on her waist. “We’re at war,” he continued, stepping forward. “And you…” Cullen frowned, looking tortured, as if he were barely holding back from closing the rest of the distance between them. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

“I’m still here,” she promised, and it was what broke him. His gaze floated down to her mouth, and Elodie’s lips parted automatically. She tightened her grip on his sleeve, moving his other hand to her waist as she trailed her fingers up to rest on his chest.

“So you are,” he murmured, moving in close. “It seems too much to ask. But I want to—”

“Commander!” a voice shouted from below them. “I’ve got Ms. Leliana’s reports.”

There was a moment where neither Cullen nor Elodie moved, as if they could keep still and remain invisible if they willed it hard enough. But then Cullen pulled back, his sense of decorum kicking in. Elodie held back a groan of disappointment, immediately looking away to try to afford the Commander privacy. He turned on his heel, meeting the messenger at the top of the stairs.

“What?” he demanded, his voice a warning. The messenger didn’t seem to notice.

“I have the intel from Ms. Leliana,” they said, flipping through what sounded like some manila folders, or a rather large envelope. “You said to get it to you right away.”

Silence. Elodie looked away, back out over the highway. She focused on the carcass of an eighteen-wheeler, its trailer overturned and rusted out like a shattered ribcage, far in the distance.

“Or… on your desk. Right. Sorry sir,” the messenger stammered. The sound of more footfalls, then boots slapping over the wet sidewalk faded from earshot as the kid rushed off. Elodie frowned, guilt suffusing her. Cullen would have to go. He’d tell her sorry, they’d continue this later, he was just busy, like they always seemed to do. Elodie resigned herself to reschedule this. She could swallow her disappointment for him, if he asked her to. She turned, gaze averted.

“If you need to—”

A moan escaped her in lieu of more words as Cullen drew her mouth to his. His hands were warm at her cheeks, his lips hungry and desperate, his teeth raking gently across her lower lip as he kissed her. Elodie felt her knees almost buckle, and she grabbed onto Cullen’s waist beneath his jacket to keep herself steady. She could feel his hips beneath her palms, and she grabbed harder, pulling him flush against her as she kissed him back just as fervently. He responded, grinding his body against hers in a lazy circle, and Elodie let another noise escape.

For all his stammering, the man was smooth when he wanted to be.

After a breathless moment, Cullen broke the kiss. He seemed to be disoriented, glancing away sheepishly as his eyes cleared.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That was…” he brought his gaze back to hers. His expression was raw, torn, as if he needed her to confirm what it was. But then, as he looked at her, he broke into a helpless little smile. “Really nice,” he finished.

“Do you regret it?” Elodie asked, worried at his apology.

Cullen’s eyes widened.

“No!” he answered immediately, then softer as his thumbs traced circles over her tattoos. “No. Not at all.”

“Prove it,” she whispered, embarrassed at how easily she succumbed to even the most simple of touches. A delicious, warm slide of pleasure was pooling about her hips and gliding beautifully down her spine with every little spiral Cullen caressed into her skin. Her fingers fisted his shirt at his hips, dragging her nails across Cullen’s skin only rough enough to draw a groan from him.

“Oh,” Cullen breathed, and Elodie was lost at the gentle surprise contained in such a small syllable. He smirked, leaning in once more. “Gladly.”

Before she could say anything else, his mouth was against hers. He kissed her as if he could hardly believe she was letting him, with his hand cradling her face close. Cullen sucked her lower lip gently in between his teeth, nibbling sweetly. Their breathing mingled in a symphony of quiet murmurs, and Elodie wrapped her arms around Cullen’s waist to better snuggle into him as she reveled in every minute sensation of his mouth.

When Elodie grew more daring, lifting Cullen’s shirt to slip her fingertips against his bare skin, he broke away. With a groan, Cullen leaned away a fraction so that he could look down at her.

“Does this… is this okay?”

Elodie blinked, unsure what he could mean. He licked his lower lip and held back a growl. Elodie circled her hips against his, a slow and languid gesture as he stared her down with his honeyed gaze.

“Is what okay?”

“This. All of this."

"Of course it is," Elodie said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know. But I do better with boundaries,” Cullen begged in a small voice that Elodie hadn’t heard before. “So, tell me.”

Cullen’s hands traced down her neck, over her shoulders, and down to her arms. He lowered his gaze to her jugular, then lower still to the way his sweatshirt hung low over her collarbone. It was too big for her, too warm. Elodie wished he would take it off for her, and the thought alone had her closing her eyes and biting back a noise of eagerness.

“Tell me what’s okay,” Cullen said again, his voice steadier now. “Tell me what’s not.”

Once his hands were at her elbows, he slipped them to Elodie’s waist. She held her breath, anticipation leaving her dizzy and desperate. But when Cullen lifted his palm to trace over the stitched Templar symbol over her sternum, Elodie watched as his expression changed.

It was subtle. His eyes, pupils wide with arousal, sharpened. His mouth, slick from where Elodie had dared to dart her tongue out for a taste, was set in a grim line. His fingers floated over the sword, over each flame, and Elodie had the impression that he was not seeing her here anymore. In an effort to bring him back, and at a loss of what else to do, she brought her hand up to his. Pressing down, she held Cullen’s palm flush to her chest. His gaze flicked up, unsure.

Beneath the laugh lines and the slight, violet tinge of fatigue, Cullen’s eyes were that of a cautious young man, uncertain and vulnerable. Elodie hesitated once, only once, and then the words fell from her lips like the fog falling around them.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for months now,” Elodie whispered, blushing fiercely at the confession. “Every time you sent me a picture of you smiling, I hated that it would disappear. If I’d thought I could get away without having to explain the notification to you, I would have screenshot every single snap you sent me. I wanted to look at you for hours.”

Cullen’s breath fled his lungs, a wide-eyed expression of shock replacing all doubt on his face. Elodie kept her other hand against the skin of his hip, her pinky and ring finger hooking on one of his belt-loops.

“Really?” he breathed.

“When I was sick, you said that you’d thought of undressing me before.”

It was Cullen’s turn to blush.

“It was incredibly sexy to hear,” Elodie confessed in a low whisper. “Because I’ve often thought of doing things like this.”

Before he could ask what Elodie meant, the two fingertips she had pressed against his hip slid backwards. She slipped her palm against the small of his back, skin to skin along his spine, and Cullen’s mouth pursed in a silent o of surprised pleasure. Elodie bit her lower lip, her eyes on his lips, and then traced her hand around the circumference of jeans.

“El-Elodie-”

“You’re always wearing your Kevlar, Commander,” she said, teasing him. His hand clenched at her sternum, and his expression prayed for mercy. Elodie shook her head. “I’ve wondered for a long time what your waist and hips felt like without it.”

“You’re not telling me your boundaries, you’re fueling a fire,” Cullen warned.

“Oh?” Elodie tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I thought I was showing you what was okay with me. Anything I do to you, you're more than welcome to do back to me.”

She reached up and caught the nape of his neck, pulling him down into another kiss even as she grew bold and slipped her hand up across his abdomen underneath of his shirt.

“Maker’s breath,” he whispered against her mouth, giving in immediately. Her tongue traced the line of his mouth, probing gently, asking him to draw her in deeper. She wanted to taste him, to feel the way he moved, to figure out how he liked to lean into a makeout session, how much he’d bite her if she let him.

She snaked her hand back behind his neck and held him against her, growing braver the more Cullen let her explore. He spoke into her lips, tiny prayers of distress that she answered in kind as his hand pressed resolutely against her heartbeat.

“Cullen,” Elodie whispered, turning to try and speak. He bent to her neck, nipping bites down her jugular to her collarbone, then licking over where his teeth had been. Elodie felt her knees buckle, and his hand moved from her cheek down to her waist, then her hips, then her arse before moving back to her thigh. She gasped, the sound leading into a groan as she raised her foot to hook against Cullen’s calf.

“Tell me more,” he begged when he broke away from her skin again. “Is this… something you want to do once? More than once?”

“I’m…” Elodie paused, then pulled her hand from underneath of Cullen’s shirt to bring it to his curls. She coaxed his head up so that she could fixate him with her gaze, so that he could see how serious she was. “I’m only doing these things with you, Cullen,” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“The selfies, the…” she paused, feeling fragile and small. “The singing. The music playlists. The kisses. I'm not playing the field, seeing who all I can get close to before pulling away. I'm only interested in you, and I hope we do this more than once. Whatever this is.”

Elodie tangled her fingers in Cullen’s collar.

“So. Yeah,” she couldn’t find the words for a moment, but then she blurted outright, “So are you kissing other people?”

After a beat, Cullen laughed out loud, and Elodie mirrored his mirth without knowing why. As he quieted, he gathered her closer, his arm moving to her lower back so that he could support her better. He dropped the hand from her chest down to her hips, his fingers grazed across her breast, and Elodie fought against arching up into his palm.

“You’re the only one I’m interested in doing these things with as well.”

“Then why’d you laugh?” she muttered, a bit stung that it had surprised her so.

“Because I haven’t kissed anyone in years,” he whispered.

“You haven’t?” Elodie blinked, confused. “Why not?”

“You’re just the first person I’ve wanted to kiss in a long time.”

“I feel like I should be the one asking you your boundaries, then,” Elodie said with a smile, caressing Cullen’s hair back behind his ear with a sensual drag of her fingernails. “What do _you_ want this to be, Cullen?”

“Something that we don't do once and then regret,” he answered. "I want this to be good."

"Me too."

His face was growing warm beneath her fingers, his eyes uncertain.

“Elodie. Is it rude of me to…”

Cullen leaned forward, seemingly unable to say it when Elodie was looking at him. Into the curve of her neck, against the soft skin of her shoulder, Cullen whispered something she couldn’t hardly hear.

“What was that?” Elodie asked, scratching soft lines against Cullen’s scalp, hoping to soothe him.

“How often can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice small. "From now on, I mean."

Elodie’s heart skipped a beat, and she gathered Cullen to her even tighter. Both of her arms wrapped around his neck, and she planted little kisses all along the tips of his ears, the warm blush of his temple, and the curls that smelled of crushed-petal shampoo.

“You,” she murmured. “Are incredible.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Anytime you want,” Elodie said into his curls. “You can kiss me absolutely anytime you want.”

"Before dinner?"

"Naturally."

"Okay. What if I kissed you in the lobby of the hotel?" Cullen posited. "Would you be alright with that?"

"More than alright. I can't wait for us to try it."

"I see. How do you feel about the war room?"

She laughed out loud, finally grasping onto the fact that he was teasing her, his suggestions playful and sweet in order to detract from the rawness of the question he'd asked her to begin with.

"Oh especially there," she agreed. "We'll be able to get so much work done if we just make out on top of the blueprints and screenshots."

He growled into her neck as if this thought pleased him, sending shivers down her spine.

“Careful,” she warned. If he continued making noises like that, Elodie wasn’t sure what she’d do. Cullen seemed to pull himself together; he took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then nuzzled his stubbled cheek against hers.

“Alright. I have a pretty good idea of where we stand."

Elodie felt like saying that she was barely standing upright on her own, but she knew what he meant. She nodded.

"I don’t know when we’ll have breaks to see each other,” he murmured. “But I’ll keep texting no matter what. I’ll make myself available when I can.”

“I will too.”

“So…” Cullen held her tighter, squeezing a little breath from Elodie as he did. She leaned into the embrace, sighing into Cullen’s temple. He whispered against her neck, a breath she barely caught. “I suppose I'm saying that I want us to be together. Whatever that means, in any way we can, for however long you want.”

“I… I want that too.”

He made a small noise against her, one of disbelief. Before he could say more, she stood on her tiptoes and licked at the soft skin of Cullen’s earlobe. He froze in her arms, his fingers digging slowly into the burgundy sweatshirt that smelled like comfort and drawing a little moan from her lips. When he let out another slow breath, as if he were trying to keep control of himself, Elodie drew Cullen’s lobe between her teeth and sucked it softly. She ran her tongue along the length of the shell of his cartilage as he bent his head, and when she could feel his breathing quicken at her clavicle, Elodie let out a mewl of approval she knew only Cullen could hear.

“I confess, I’m at a loss-”

“Kiss me, Cullen,” Elodie ordered, voice low and quick.

One of his hands moved to cup her cheek, while the other adjusted low on the small of her back to pull her hips to his. Cullen obeyed her and brought his lips back to trace lines of sweetness along her jaw before capturing her mouth once more. They relaxed into the kiss, supporting one another in the chill, their breath mingling in the cold mist as they took advantage of the moment. Cool fingertips brushed across Elodie’s cheek, the cold tip of Cullen’s nose tracing a curve along her cheek as he tilted his head and parted his lips for her explorations.

The dance from before was nothing compared to how Cullen led her through tasting him. Every dip of his tongue urged her forward, every suckle tantalized her and promised more should she dare to plunge deeper. When Elodie mimicked a movement he showed her, he would give a breathless moan, as if he were surprised she'd caught on so quickly to what he liked. When she did the same for him, tilting her head further to allow him more access to deepen the kiss, he uttered a curse of "Maker's breath" so small that she almost did not catch it.

Every few minutes, it felt as if she surfaced for breath from a long, refreshing dive beneath cool water. She found herself gasping as Cullen held her tight about her waist and shoulders, as he pressed kisses along the length of her ear then back down to the soft skin where her lobe met her neck. And then, when she thought he was satisfied, he would surprise her and recapture her mouth, her sounds, her moans, and she would be lost once more. It was an unending, hypnotic, agonizingly pleasurable back and forth; it was a makeout session unlike Elodie had ever had before.

She didn’t know how long it had been, didn't know when her hands had tangled in his curls to keep his mouth flush against hers, didn't know when she'd gotten so wet that every slide of her thighs brought her a burst of radiant pleasure. But here they still stood, their warmth fogging the air around them. Her knuckles were tightening her hands into fists, and she was pulling gently at the roots of his tresses, and Cullen’s hips were pressed so deliciously on hers that Elodie couldn’t resist lifting her knee up and-

“W-wait,” Cullen said against her lips, barely breaking away to protest. She paused, and he pressed his forehead against hers and let out a puff of air. “Give me a minute.”

“What's wrong? Too fast?”

“Mmm,” Cullen smiled. “My thoughts are moving even faster, and I need a moment to reign everything in.”

“We…” Elodie slowly shimmied her arms out from where they were trapped between them and gripped Cullen’s hips tightly between both hands. “We don’t have any set pace you know. If you wanted-”

“Can we talk?”

“Cullen,” she laughed before she could stop herself. “Of course. That's what we're good at.”

“Mmm,” he grunted again, but this hum was less of a moan and more of a hesitant filler. Elodie tilted her head, the urge to tease him having fled.

“Let's talk,” she said in an effort to reassure him. With one hand, she smoothed down the hem of his shirt, pulling it down over his belt-loops. “I’m happy with slowing down.”

Cullen paused, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, to search her gaze. Elodie resisted the urge to look away, to look down at his mouth. She focused instead on trying to look content with putting her foot back down flat on the concrete beneath them, instead of hooking it behind Cullen’s hip and half-straddling him. She cleared her throat and he gave a little laugh.

“I’m not, though.”

An eyebrow of hers quirked automatically, her skepticism so clearly written on her face that Cullen laughed once more, like he couldn’t help it.

“Hey. I’m serious, Elodie.”

“And I’m confused,” Elodie said with a grin. “Very intrigued, but confused. If you don't want to slow down, why do you want to talk? Why not just,” she gripped his hips and ground herself closer, eliciting a grunt of restraint from her Commander. "Keep kissing me like you were?"

“I want to talk now because…” Cullen looked up away at the sky, the gray of the drizzly morning around them muting the vibrant golds of his irises to a muted brown. “I want to know how quickly we can move from here. If we can clearly define those boundaries, then I know how caught up in you I can get today.” He glanced down at her again. "And I want to get caught up in you rather desperately."

“You know, when you talk like that,” Elodie murmured, “it is really easy to forget how susceptible you are to blushing and stammering, Commander.”

“Don’t worry,” he muttered. “I’m sure I’ll lose my words soon enough. Especially if you keep eyeing my lips like you are.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m not,” Elodie agreed, but she mercifully pulled her eyes back up to his. “So let’s talk before you get carried away.”

She turned towards the rest of the overgrown bridge and held out her hand for Cullen to take in his. The mist around them was getting colder, but it helped her keep her flushed skin from overheating as Cullen stared at her in surprise. They’d held hands before. Was it so hard for him to take hers again? Elodie noticed him hesitate, but he mustered up whatever courage or boldness or energy he needed and his fingers found hers. As soon as their palms touched, Cullen’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Elodie started to lead them in a wandering, slow walk over the bridge.

“I’ve had exactly two serious relationships before this,” Cullen said, straight to the point.

"You want to talk about our past? Now?"

"Before we do anything physical, yes."

Elodie glanced over, eyes wide, but he wouldn’t look at her. His skin was turning pink as he continued.

“One was a girl back in Ferelden, right when I left for the academy, so… I think I was too young to consider that serious, but I did think I loved her.”

“And the other?” Elodie prompted after a moment's pause.

“A girl in my dorm several years later, before we were formally Templars and were just recruits. We’d write to each other through an instant messaging service, text silly things between classes, and meet up once every fortnight to… enjoy each others’ company.”

“Oh.” Elodie figured that meant sex, but didn’t want to pry. “Why did it end?”

“She’d been texting another guy at the same time as she was me, and she decided he was a better fit than I was. But it worked out, because I was sent to Kinloch not long after. I had a few crushes after that, but mainly just focused on work for the most part.”

“That sucks,” Elodie muttered. She squeezed his hand reassuringly, and knew he wanted her to speak next by the way his thumb traced that little c into her skin. “I have had three serious partners in the last fifteen years. My first was just a nice, short encounter, the other was an emotional connection more than a relationship, and the last was my most recent ex.”

“What do you mean, emotional connection more than relationship? Are those not relationships?”

“I was trying to hint that we didn’t have sex,” Elodie said.

“Ah.”

“Did you-”

“Yes.”

“With both?”

“Yes.”

“I did in my first relationship,” Elodie said, and she noticed Cullen’s hand was becoming a little clammy. She squeezed it in what she hoped was a reassuring way and kicked a pebble to the side of the concrete. It skittered past a felled lamppost and caught in some moss. “He was a really nice guy. But the Lavellans were never in one place for long, and we just kinda… fell out of touch, I guess, after I moved one time.”

“Long distance can be hard.”

“Mmhmm.” She paused, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. “The next two relationships I had were with women, one dramatic and one amicable, and I ended both of those myself.”

“I… have never been the one to end my relationships.”

“No?”

“No. I think it's what made me a bit wary of them when I was younger. I never really felt comfortable with meaningless flirting either, so that certainly did not help my situation,” Cullen answered unwaveringly. The sincerity of it made Elodie giggle, but he glanced over as if worried he’d given offense. “I don’t mean with you. I mean, with you it's not meaningless anyway, but-”

“Cullen,” Elodie shushed him. She brought his hand to her lips, kissing the back of his knuckles as they walked, and he exhaled. “You don’t have to be nervous about this conversation. It's perfectly normal.”

“Who said I’m nervous?”

Elodie raised an eyebrow at him, and he finally looked over at her and stopped walking.

“Okay. I admit it. I’m nervous.”

“Me too.”

“That’s… comforting, I suppose,” he conceded, his free hand moving to the nape of his neck to brush along his skin. “Tell me about your girlfriends.”

“The first one was an emotional affair, I guess,” Elodie said, shrugging.

"She had an affair while she was with you?"

"No... I was the other woman," Elodie admitted, a chill at the memories this dredged up tingly up to the tips of her ears. Cullen's fingers tightened over hers. “I was extraordinarily in love with her, but she was dating someone else. I was given the impression she’d leave him for me, and so I kept seeing her. For years. I never should’ve done that to myself, or to him. Or to her, for that matter.”

Cullen grunted, probably understanding more deeply than he wanted to say.

“So anyway, after I got over her, I dated my most recent ex, an elf named Imara. We’re still on good terms, talk every once in a while. Her clan and mine traveled side by side for a while.”

“Why didn’t you two stay together?”

“I dunno,” Elodie shrugged. “We dated for only a brief amount of time. Long enough to realize we were better as friends, not lovers.”

“And… this,” Cullen cleared his throat, then tried again. “Do you feel like this is different?”

“I think you and I want similar things from this,” Elodie said, smiling up at him. "I've yet to test out whether we're good for each other as lovers, but I like being around you."

"I'm still amazed to hear that," he murmured, a thought Elodie wondered if he had meant to say aloud.

“You’ve got incredibly redeeming qualities about you, Commander."

He gave a little laugh. The noise was innocent, unexpected, as if he were pleased but didn't believe her.

"You do!" she insisted, grinning. "You move with conviction. You know yourself, know what you want from the world around you, and you strive to create that. I admire that so much, wish I had some of that in my own life.”

“You do,” Cullen said with a smile. "Even more than I do."

“No,” she laughed. “I don't think I'm quite on that level of work-ethic yet.”

“Ha. This coming from the woman who dropped everything to fundraise for a no-kill animal shelter the other day, on top of investigating a human trafficking ring. I think if either of us 'moves with conviction', as you put it, it's you.”

“Okay, so we have this in common,” Elodie giggled, drawing Cullen back into a slow walk. “I like talking with you like this, Cullen.”

“Even when I’m so,” Cullen paused and shrugged. “Nervous?”

“You’re rather cute when you're nervous,” Elodie said, smiling despite herself.

"Thank you. I like talking like this too, for what it's worth."

"Plus, I feel comfortable around you. Nerves or no." She swung their hands between their bodies and confessed softly, “You’re the first person I think of when I wake up, most likely the last thing I think of when I go to sleep.”

“I am?”

“Yes!”

“But… why?” Cullen whispered, and Elodie felt her skin flush pink and hot.

“You’re one of my closest friends here,” she said. "You mean a lot to me."

Saying it aloud didn’t cheapen it, but it was the first time she’d admitted it in so many words. Cullen might not hang out with her at diners in the wee hours before dawn, and he might not travel alongside her to raid empty apartments. He wasn’t someone who could always accompany her into the city when she craved curly fries before breakfast, and he was so busy that they hadn’t really found time to be alone in person for long. So far, their friendship had flourished through texts, phone calls, and temporary selfies.

But it was still a wonderful friendship. He gave her advice, praised her, corrected her, offered her new perspective, asked her for help when he needed it, and supported her every decision. Even when he disagreed with it.

And she was beginning to grow worried the longer he kept silent. She was about to open her mouth, maybe apologize for how heavy things had gotten in the span of only a few minutes, but he beat her to it.

“You’re one of mine too, Elodie. Beyond just the leader of the Inquisition, you're one of the people I like most here in Skyhold." He seemed to catch himself, stammering, "W-which is why I don’t want to move too quickly, break any trust we have between us.”

Elodie smiled graciously.

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I mean,” she sighed. “I don’t. But I think I know you well enough to say confidently that you can’t do much I wouldn’t like.”

“So…” Cullen paused, his knuckles tightening over hers. “This brings us back to our conversation about speed. And what you like and don't like as far as physical closeness.”

"Get close to me," she teased, her voice a sensual whisper. "And we'll see."

Elodie watched, enraptured, as he stopped them both and brought her hand up to his lips. He kissed each of her knuckles in turn, pausing to brush his lips across the back of her hand. She let out a helpless breath, her pulse beating out its rhythm so hard against her sternum she knew it would be visible to the naked eye. Cullen’s honeyed gaze drifted back to hers, hunger plainly written on his face.

“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” he asked her, suggestive and raw.

“I have no plans,” Elodie breathed.

"Come back to my room, then. Please," he begged, his voice soft despite the confidence therein.

"Are we going to play more Scrabble?" she joked, mainly to keep her knees from weakening beneath her at his tone.

"No," Cullen laughed. "Arranging lettered tiles on a gameboard is the last thing my fingers want to be doing right now."

“Oh," Elodie sighed. It was a stupid noise, one caught between a moan and a laugh of surprise. To cover it, she added, "Shall we adjourn to my quarters instead?”

“Mine are closer.”

“Yes, but you have your office attached to yours,” she said, stepping forward to slide her leg against his calf. His smell suffused the air around her, a perfume she’d gladly wear every day if she could. She tilted her head up as if she were seeking a kiss from her tall paramour, but when he lowered his head to oblige, she spoke against his mouth. “My ideas require a place for us to retreat to without interruptions. Where your fingers will be free to do as they wish, without the temptation of those reports on your desk pulling you away from me.”

“You're sure this is alright?” he whispered. "You don't mind sneaking me up to your room?"

Elodie smiled, then wrapped her arms about his neck.

“Not at all. I’ve not forgotten about that lecture you owe me, ser. If anyone asks, that's what you were doing with your mouth for the last half hour anyway.”

Cullen’s hands supported her at the small of her back as she arched up to capture his lips with her own, a hand at her shoulders digging in gently as he sought purchase in her sweatshirt. When she broke away, he raised one eyebrow.

“If you change your mind,” he whispered, his voice ragged, “promise you'll tell me to stop.”

“I promise,” Elodie said, growing slightly impatient. “But listen to what I'm telling you now, Cullen."

"I'm listening."

"I want you to take me back up to my room, lock the door, and then I don't want you to hold back any longer. Are we clear, Commander?”

She could see Cullen swallow hard, his insecurities banished as his eyes grew wider for a split second. But then his shoulders squared, his codename seemingly bolstering his confidence. His mouth twisted in a little smirk, the scar on his upper lip stretching white.

“Alright. Lead the way, Inquisitor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is absolutely, unequivocally, totally nsfw. And that's all it is.
> 
> If you're not into it, skipping it won't ruin the rest of the story arc, and if you ARE into it, then look forward to that next saucy update! We'll also return to the roots of back and forth in scene-to-scene antics with her companions that the first half of this story was REALLY into. I just needed to get these two out of my system for a bit <3
> 
> I also headcanon that, no matter what au or world-state, Cullen has a big thing about consent leftover from his trauma at Kinloch. WHICH I am really looking forward to outlining briefly in the soft-pocalypse au here. Eventually. Going into something physical, Cullen's going to want to make sure the boundaries (and ways out) are very well-defined, clear, and understood by all parties involved... almost to the point of overplanning.
> 
> He does have a fondness for strategy, our Commander, what can I say? ^^


	26. The Inquisitor's Quarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I lied. This is the first smut-only chapter of ... two? Maybe three? I'll put notes at the beginning so anybody uninterested can move past it easily!
> 
> But for those intending to stay-- I'm happy you're here ^^

Cullen and Elodie kept their hands to themselves, but with difficulty. In the elevator on their way up, their fingers found one another’s and Elodie’s pulse tripped across itself in anticipation. Cullen's knuckles grazed past hers, his slender fingers sliding down her digits with trembling shyness. When the doors opened up to the penthouse floor, Cullen’s thumb was soothing a nervous little _c_ into Elodie’s implant-free palm. Elodie could barely breathe. She stepped out, her paramour trailing behind her, and fumbled with her key card for a minute. Before she could pull the little plastic rectangle from its slot, Cullen’s hands were at her waist and shoulders, forcibly turning her and backing her into her door.

He kissed her wildly, his tongue hot against her lips and his fingers clamped about her shoulders. Elodie’s hands fisted in Cullen’s hair, her fingernails scratching gently against his scalp so that she could pull him closer. His hands drew hungry lines down her sides as he pushed her back into the door. She lifted her leg, fully intending to hook her ankle behind Cullen’s knee in order to get him to grind harder against her, but then she felt Cullen move. His hand grabbed for her keycard, slipping it out once and hurriedly slamming it back into the lock. The door gave a tiny beep, one they could barely hear against their desperate breaths, and Cullen pushed down the door handle before she could reorient herself.

They fell as one mess of limbs into her quarters. As they tumbled, Elodie tried to catch herself by yanking hard on Cullen’s collar. He didn’t seem to have expected her to lose her balance, and he gave a little grunt as Elodie’s foot caught in between his ankles. They fell to her floor, but somehow Cullen had maneuvered himself so that his forearms took the brunt of the fall. Her shoulders hit first, then her hips and his knees. Still, Cullen managed to keep most of his weight off of her as Elodie’s hips slammed back into the rug; she still gave an undignified _oof_ as the wind was knocked from her lungs.

“Maker take me,” Cullen bit out. Then, softer, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she muttered, leaning up to try to capture his mouth once more. “Don’t stop.”

“I-I want to undress you first,” he confessed, shame reddening his cheeks and neck as he reared slightly away from her. His eyes were heavy-lidded, cautious. “Is that too much to ask?”

“Not at all,” Elodie whispered.

She let her legs relax, and with gentle fingers she skimmed a path down Cullen's arm. When she reached his wrist, she pulled his hand to her cheek. As Cullen watched her, she nuzzled into his palm and let her eyes flutter shut. She knew Cullen was watching. She knew he wouldn't look away. She could feel his breathing quicken as she opened her lips against the lines and callouses of his palm. He made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, a withheld gasp, and Elodie's eyes opened in response.

He was watching her intensely, his fingers splayed against her cheek. As his eyes caught hers, Cullen dipped his fingertips back and caught them in her curls.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered. Elodie's chest felt too light, full of elation and surprise and need.

“I do," she nodded into his palm, bringing one hand up to hold his hand to her cheek. "I want you to show me everything you’ve ever thought about doing to me.”

Reaching up, she twisted her fingers in his jacket and pulled, drawing Cullen back down into a kiss before he could speak more. He moaned against her mouth, his hips rocking against hers as if he couldn’t help himself. Elodie felt Cullen twitch, and then there was a bang that made her flinch: he’d kicked the door shut behind them without breaking their kiss. She slipped her hands beneath his jacket, against his neck, back past his nape, back to the soft spot of skin and taut muscle and tension knots that Cullen kept between his shoulder blades. She soothed sweet words of encouragements against his mouth, little gasps that seemed to spur him to kiss her deeper and silence her save for her moans. As his teeth nipped at her lower lip, Elodie wondered if his shoulders were freckled. When his hand slid beneath her shirt, exposing her belly to the cool air of the hotel room, Elodie realized that she could find out if she wanted to.

Without any regard for the fact that his arms were supporting him over her, Elodie wriggled further down beneath Cullen and began to pull his jacket up and over his head. He laughed, breaking the kiss to allow her to pull the garment off of him.

“You keep your room cold,” he mumbled.

“You're one to talk, ser," Elodie said.

He laughed, a rich sound that sent an ache of desire flickering through Elodie's entire being. As she dragged her hands down the front of his chest, she could feel his nipples tighten in protest against the chill. Or maybe in response to her stroking.

"C'mere. I’ll warm you,” she promised, tilting her head up for him to kiss.

He obliged her immediately, his lips against hers even as a minute groan escaped them. Cullen’s weight was on his left arm, and his right hand busied itself with tracing a confident line up past Elodie’s tshirt, right by the underwire of her bra. His hand captured her breast, delicate in its fondling, and Elodie moaned in utter helplessness. Cullen responded easily, and repeated the movement again and again, sweetly massaging his thumb over the padding of the cup as he kissed her, almost as if he were testing which spots drew the loudest noises from her throat. Growing bolder, Elodie mimicked him. She slid her hands beneath his shirt, over the hard planes of his abdomen, exploring his every indentation. His muscles tensed reflexively at her touch, leaping underneath of her cool fingertips. He was burning up, so warm to the touch that Elodie blushed in turn at the heat. His thumb traced harder, catching the hardened bud of her nipple beneath her bra, and she cried out against his lips.

He seized the opportunity and lifted her shirt completely as he hooked a finger into the soft cup of fabric at her breast. With a tug that pulled her strap away from her shoulder, Cullen teased Elodie’s bra down just far enough to give his mouth access to her nipple. As he bent his head, trailing kisses down her jaw and neck and sternum, Elodie arched back into the carpet and threw a leg about his hip. He began to move against her in slow, rhythmic thrusts, his pelvis grinding deliciously on hers as he began to lavish attention on her exposed chest.

“C-Cullen.”

“Mmm.”

“The other one, too,” Elodie whispered.

He chuckled darkly, and she couldn’t tell if he was surprised at the comment or if he expected it. Regardless, he responded immediately and subtly, tracing his tongue across her chest as he pulled her other strap loose. Arching up, Elodie snuck a hand behind her own back and unsnapped the garment as Cullen teased her nipple into a taut, pebbled peak. His teeth grazed roughly across its dusky rosebud tip, and the border between pleasure and pain arced through Elodie’s spine in a quivering jolt. She cried out again, louder in her surprise, and Cullen immediately pulled back.

“I’m sorry. That was-”

“Again,” Elodie ordered, breathless. “Do that again.”

“Oh, r-right,” he stammered, regaining his momentum. Elodie’s hands were scratching sensual lines down his back and up his neck, encouraging him to pay even more attention to her sensitive skin, and with every shift of movement she could feel slickness beginning to soak through her undergarments. With every belabored thrust Cullen ground out against her hips, the ache between her thighs became more and more unbearable. He was alternating between each breast now, kissing back and forth across her chest as he laved her electrified skin with his flattened tongue. He pulled back, exhaling a deliberate chilly breath against her nipple to draw it even tighter before taking it into his mouth once more. The shift in sensation was delectable, especially when he used his teeth. She really meant to tell him so, but the noises that escaped her were merely restrained, held-back gasps. She seemed to have forgotten how to form words. There was only a chorus of moans and breaths between them.

His free hand was at her waist now, undoing her jeans. Mindless, aware only of how good his shampoo smelled and how sweet and rhythmic his ministrations were, Elodie moved her fingers down to help him. Together, they popped her button free and slid her zipper down.

“Stay here,” Cullen ordered suddenly, and before Elodie could protest he had gotten to his feet above her. He strode into her bedroom, and Elodie stared up at the ceiling in momentary shock at the interruption. Before she could react, however, Cullen was already back at her side. He slid a hand beneath her neck, kissing her as he set something down beside her head. “Lift up,” he whispered.

Elodie sat up enough for Cullen to slip a pillow behind her shoulders. She laid back on it, laughing, and he straddled her knees. In the semi-darkness of early evening filtering through the windows, Elodie looked up at the halo of brightness surrounding Cullen’s golden curls and could hardly believe this was happening. He hooked both hands under the hem of his shirt and pulled it off in one fluid motion. Elodie suppressed a gasp. His torso was covered with sleek, golden hair, fine enough to barely catch the light of the gray mist outside, thick enough that Elodie knew her fingers would tangle easily within their depths. She reached up as he threw his shirt to the side. With eager fingers, she traced a hand down the trail of darkening hair that led from his abs to his jeans slung low about his hips.

Wordlessly, their fingers met once more, at Cullen’s zipper this time. They undid it together, popping the button free.

Maker, he was huge. Elodie could not hold back a noise of appreciation as she pulled the denim away from him, and she watched Cullen’s cock bob almost shyly at the noise. She wanted to pull at his boxers, to roll her body up into a crunch so that she could take him in her mouth and see what kind of stammering Cullen did then— but he beat her to it.

Shimmying down so that his knees were by her calves, Cullen kicked his jeans off while he simultaneously began to work Elodie’s pants down her hips. As he did so, he rested on one elbow in order to better reach her stomach. As Elodie watched, overwhelmed, Cullen kissed delicate patterns into her hipbones as he pushed and pulled her jeans down around her ankles. As he caressed sweetness into her skin, she could feel his legs tangling gently with hers so that he could kick his jeans free as well. Elodie thought he would stop there, but Cullen’s confidence was unabashed. He grazed two fingers up along her bare thigh, up past the scrap of cloth that separated them, and then back down again, straight along the slick cleft of her panties. His knuckles, light and unassuming, slid against the hood of her clit, and Elodie gave a choked cry.

He had to feel how wet she was. Her thighs were hot and slick from her desperation, despite her underwear, and she could feel Cullen trailing her own juices back down her leg as his fingers left the apex of her thighs. Were it not for the low groan he emitted, Elodie would have thought him unaffected by the revelation. She felt his cock flex against her leg, and he kissed just below her belly button in a tender gesture as his fingers rested on her knee.

“Oh please,” she begged, unsure of what she was begging for. “Please!”

Cullen complied, retracing the trail his hand had just marked. His fingers traveled up her thigh, circled around belly, and then slid back down against her writhing hips. He did it again and again, taking his time as he teased a knuckle against her through her panties, until Elodie’s hands were at his shoulders and her words urged him forward.

“More. Please, I need more.”

“Gladly,” he whispered, and his path began to tighten. Instead of tracing down her leg, he pushed her thighs apart and began to massage the outer edge of her lips, ignoring the insistent ache of her clit that Elodie was certain he had to feel beneath his knuckles. She was squirming against him, struggling to keep her hips flush against the carpet, and Cullen gave another chuckle against her stomach. “Is that enough, then?”

“Fff-” A withheld curse. “You know it’s not.”

“Tell me what you need, then.”

For a moment, Elodie hesitated. A wave of nerves crested over her, then ebbed. She had always been a bit anxious at the idea of demanding her pleasure, but she had seen Cullen take her orders before. The act of telling him to do something and then seeing him carry it out to the letter was always a pleasure before. He would do the same now, if she would just speak up.

In the midst of her silence, his fingers slowly positioned themselves over top of her. Cullen’s palm rested easily over her opening, two fingers slipped to either side of her hood through the soaked cotton of her underwear, and he began to stroke up and down her clit as he waited.

Elodie was lost. All of her other partners had been rough, too rough, and she’d had to ask them to slow down as soon as they got her pants off. Cullen was different. His touch was light without being shaky. His fingertips were not taking her pleasure greedily; instead, he seemed to not even be focused on drawing it out. He was merely getting to know the feel of her flesh. He was diligent. Guiltily, Elodie mused that if his work ethic was anything to judge by, he really was going to be the most detail-oriented lover she’d ever taken.

Before another cohesive thought could cross her mind, Cullen’s open mouth pressed hotly against her through her underwear. She felt his moan rather than heard it, his breath feverish at the curls between her legs. Her hips lifted instinctively into the searing warmth of his mouth, her strangled moan soft and swallowed in the back of her throat. Cullen moved with her, keeping his pressure light and his touches teasing. The hand that wasn’t pressing deliciously on either side of her sensitive nub was at her waist, holding her in place. Elodie reached down, entangling her fingers in his. He gave her an encouraging squeeze and increased the pressure of his tongue an imperceptible amount.

Elodie couldn’t tell if it was her own slickness or if it was Cullen’s saliva that was running down along the length of her folds, but she didn’t care. Cullen’s fingers separated her lips beneath the fabric, giving his flattened tongue more access to her swollen clit, and Elodie was amazed at how intimate a gesture this was even through her clothing. Soft, heavenly warmth was surrounding her most sensitive place thanks to Cullen's fervent and solicitous attention. He continued tirelessly, each flick of his tongue gentle and measured. She could hear him sucking greedily at the moisture between her legs, hear the way his teeth caught on her cotton panties, and the sound of him taking pleasure in her wetness was almost more intense than the feeling of his fingers slowly sliding up and down around his tongue. He kept a steady pace, every once in a while releasing a shaky groan of pleasure himself as Elodie’s breathing hitched and caught. As her pleasure built, Elodie wondered if he was going to continue until she said to stop. Cullen's leg tangled in hers, pulling himself along the length of her, warming himself or trying to warm her, Elodie couldn’t tell. She realized she was holding her breath and let it out in a long, slow exhale.

“Cullen, you don’t have to-” Elodie said before she could stop herself. Propped up on the pillow as she was, she could look down her torso at the golden-haired Commander between her legs as he paused. Open-mouthed, his eyes opened and found hers, his expression quizzical.

“Is this not alright?”

“Maker, no, it's perfect, don't-" Elodie bit her lip, trying to sort herself out. "I just want you to know that you don’t have to keep going... until the end. Not if you don’t want to,” she finished lamely, her jaw clenching under his scrutiny.

"Until the end?" he repeated calmly. His hand was resting softly against her thigh, a comfort.

"You know. It might take a while, or might not happen, and I just don't..." she shrugged; rather, she made a gesture that was as close to a shrug as one could get while leaning halfway up off of a pillow. "I don't want you to get bored."

At her phrasing, Cullen’s eyes darkened and his lips arched into a lazy smile. As she watched, he bent his head to her panties and nipped at them playfully with his incisor.

“Are you getting the impression I’m not enjoying myself, miss?”

“N-no. I just…” Elodie shrugged, helpless and unsure. Cullen moved against her leg, readjusting or proving a point, and Elodie could feel the evidence of how much he was enjoying himself press hard and thick against her shin. 

“Would you like me to do something else?” he asked softly, his eyes radiating a confidence she wished she embodied. "Because if this isn't okay, I am very," he lowered his voice, "very open to suggestions."

“No,” she laughed, the noise a bundle of nerves and desperation. “No, I want  _exactly_ this, believe me, but-”

“Good,” he whispered. “So do I.”

With both hands at her hips, Cullen pulled her panties down about her knees. In an instant, his mouth was open against her folds, his tongue rhythmically probing. Elodie cried out, surprise forcing her legs to clamp more tightly shut against Cullen's jaw. He paused, but then Elodie gave another mewl of pleasure and immediately relaxed. His tongue pressed at her again, so light at first that she wondered if he had actually licked her. Again, he flicked the tense tip of his tongue against her clit in delicate exploration. He only increased his pressure when Elodie began to writhe beneath him.

“Fuck,” she breathed. Her hands flit about her stomach, up her sternum, searching for something to grab onto. "More."

He took the order and began to press wave after wave of pleasure into her. Elodie arched backwards into the pillow, her eyes shutting against the onslaught of intimacy. She could feel Cullen moaning, his hums vibrating against her clit as he suckled gently on her hooded nub. Throwing her head back, she covered her mouth with the palm of one hand, desperate to keep quiet. She expected Cullen to switch things up, perhaps moving up and over her so that he could shimmy out of his own underwear and take the pleasure further— but he didn’t even slide his fingertips to her slick opening. He seemed content to tease her into oblivion without penetrating her.

Tenderly, Cullen flattened his tongue to urge her into ecstasy. Elodie was writhing beneath him, whispering silent prayers and gasps as Cullen licked sweetness into her folds. When he began to circle her clit with his tongue, working at it with insistent and steady suction, Elodie’s hips leapt of their own volition. It was like Cullen had expected it. He moved with her, his teeth grazing lightly over her as his lips closed tight around her bud, and still Elodie couldn’t stop bucking.

Cullen was unphased, if his deliberate humming was anything to go by. It was unholy, how focused he was. His lips and tongue sloppily lapping against her clit, he grabbed both of her legs and threw them about his shoulders. Elodie’s eyes snapped open as he lifted her. Cullen repositioned himself so that he was kneeling and gripping the crease of skin where the muscles of her thighs met her hips, and he deftly lifted her ass to provide him easier access to her center. Elodie expected Cullen to be gauging her reaction, expected him to be smirking up at her, but Cullen wasn’t watching her at all. His eyes were closed, his mouth still busy humming moans into her curls as he flicked the hard tip of his tongue gently against her sensitive nub. Her toe and the tips of her ears began to twitch.

“C-Cullen,” she warned. Her ears, her neck, all the way down her spine; it was all tingling, her climax mounting, the pleasure Cullen had patiently caressed into her beginning to rise in a glimmering ache. “Cullen!”

Her fingers found his curls, her shoulders fell back against the pillow he’d brought, and Elodie began to ride the cresting waves of an impending orgasm. She talked Cullen through it, begging, pleading, encouraging, telling him when she wanted it harder or softer, when he needed to keep steady. Vaguely, as she massaged his scalp with tender fingernails, Elodie wondered if she was taking too long. Pushing that thought far away from her mind, she focused on the way Cullen’s hands were roaming over her waist and belly, clawing gently into her skin as if he couldn’t bring her close enough.

“Tell me you like this,” she whispered, broken and close to shattering. "Tell me you want this, I have to- I have to hear you-"

In response, Cullen gave a raw growl and began to nod against her as she rocked her hips. His breathing matched hers, desperate and hot against her curls, his tongue snaking lower to tease at her wanting entrance. She cried out louder than she had before, her thighs tensing, and Cullen took his cue from there. Slipping one hand between them, Cullen flicked the flat of his tongue against her clit once more and sank a knuckle of his middle finger into her folds at the same time. Elodie could feel him curl his finger just slightly inside of her, seeking out the sensitive wall of nerves within until he could graze lightly against it. She tightened her hands at his hair as his other hand reached up and traced a reverent line down her sternum, where he had once soothed her with scented oil.

A second finger joined his first, stretching her only enough to further enhance the sensation of him slipping in and out. Elodie let out a cry, involuntarily tightening harder about his fingers, and Cullen’s tongue quickened its pace. She rocked down, fucking herself on his hand while he kept frantic time at her hooded bud of nerves with his lips and his tongue and his gasps, and Elodie burst into shimmering pleasure all at once and so suddenly that she had to let go of Cullen’s hair lest she accidentally pull it too hard and stop his torture. As her orgasm jolted through her with wave upon building wave of ecstasy, tensing her stomach and wrenching a long, low groan of pleasure from deep inside her chest, Elodie grabbed at either side of the pillow behind her neck. She rode the crest of it, Cullen’s mouth still moving steadily against her clit, until the sensation became too close to pain for her to bear. With one final moan, she reached down and caught Cullen’s jaw with her hand to signal for him to stop.

He moved where she beckoned him, kissing up her stomach as he crawled to lay beside her. Elodie propped herself up on one elbow while her ears and legs continued to tingle, fully intending to get up and move to the bed if that was what he wished of her. Her eyes were heavy, the intensity of her crest leaving her weak and languid. She tried to speak, to tell him to go on ahead, but only a low groan escaped Elodie's throat as her eyes fell shut. Cullen pressed gently on her sternum and urged her back down into the pillow.

“Relax,” he whispered, and with a lazy arm about her shoulders, he curled into her side and began to kiss at her neck. “There's no rush, miss.”

Elodie sighed, holding her naked body closer to the man who’d just managed to draw out the deepest orgasm she’d had in months. He adjusted her to his side as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but as he kissed her temple, Elodie could feel Cullen draw a shaky breath.

“Careful, ser," she whispered. "I might fall asleep if you hold me like this.”

“I won’t complain if you do,” he replied huskily, even as his erection pressed insistently into her thigh.

She was about to argue when he inhaled deeply and released the breath in a sigh. It was a contented, happy noise she had only heard Cullen make on three separate occasions.

There had been the one day that Bull had pushed against the knot between Cullen's shoulderblades after a particularly grueling grapple practice. The tension Cullen carried there had seemed to loosen immediately and he had let out this magnificent, satisfied groan of a sigh. Then there was the time he’d gotten a perfect range score at her side, months ago back at Haven, and he had turned to her with that same powerful, happy noise and a smile of elation. And then there was the night he had snapchatted her when she was staying at the bed and breakfast, when she’d called him to sing him lullabies to ease his headache. He had sighed like this, as if she had eased all of his pain, before saying her name for the first time.

And now, he'd just made it again as he held her to his bare chest, their skin warming one another's in Elodie's afterglow.

“Cullen,” she whispered, overcome with a tenderness she was having a hard time putting into words. Basking in her come-down, feeling strangely vulnerable, Elodie turned into his arms and wrapped herself tightly around him. He embraced her back just as warmly, just as eagerly, and kissed smiles into her shoulder. As her fingers clung to his skin, she opened her eyes so that she could remind herself that he was real. A laugh escaped her.

“What?” he murmured into her neck.

“You have freckles,” she whispered. They were faint, but a smattering of sunkissed flecks dotted across the line of Cullen’s deltoid. She laughed again, hugging him tighter. He didn’t question her or ask her to elaborate, merely tucked her further against him as he held her close. After a moment of blissful peace, Elodie adjusted herself against his chest. Her nipples grazed the soft hair along his sternum, and she felt his cock leap reflexively at her thigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, nuzzling past the curls around her neck so that he could regain access to her skin.

“Don’t be,” she replied, trailing one hand down his back, across the curve of his hip, forward to his belly. Cullen held back a gasp as her fingers sought him out, her digits caressing gently up and down the length of his shaft. “In fact, is there something I can help you with, Commander?”

“Well. Now that you mention it,” Cullen pulled back, making eye contact with her for the first time since he started to worship her naked flesh. His eyes were warm amber, pupils blown wide with unslaked lust. “There might be one or two things that could use your attention.”

“Ah,” Elodie answered gravely, barely able to keep a serious expression as she glanced down to his lips. “Shall we then?”

His scar stretched white as he smiled wickedly down at her.

“To work.”


End file.
